CHAPTER TWELVE
Moon Wishes
At that time of the year the gypsies always gathered in a southwestern corner of the First Kingdom. There they would band together against the cold and snows of winter. They would gossip, trade, and spend long days around the fire. No strangers ever came near their great encampment. And for the most part, the authorities of the First Kingdom ignored them as long as they didn't cause any trouble.
There was one gypsy woman, however, who lived there year round. Her name was Elsa and she was very old for a human. That's why she didn't travel during the rest of the year. Her ancient body didn't like riding the bumps in the road anymore. She was tired of the lame horses and broken carriage wheels and constant stream of people she don't know and couldn't trust. She decided to stay in the winter campgrounds year round, where she could meet and greet all of her people as they came and went.
No one knew how old Elsa was, not even her. Her parents had never been careful about remembering birth dates. But most people guessed she was at least a hundred. The wrinkles of her face were too deep for her to be any younger. Luckily her mind was sharp, even if her looks and body were not. She served as something of a history book for her people. Gypsies don't like to write things down. Their history is kept in the minds of its oldest members.
On the afternoon before the full moon old Elsa summoned a middle-aged gypsy named Pura to her wagon. Pura had been traveling apart from the others with her boy Timka, who was just fifteen. They always kept to themselves except during wintertime. Some whispered that Timka was part wolf, but few knew for sure. That is, except for Elsa. There wasn't much that she didn't know.
Elsa knew that Pura's marriage to Timka's half-wolf father had been arranged. And that he had had a younger brother who was also a half-wolf. Both boys had been "adopted" by their caravan because wolf blood was considered strong. Part-wolves could hunt better than ordinary men. And their senses were better attuned for traveling at night through unfamiliar surroundings.
Wilhelm and his brother Lazar had belonged to a different caravan then Pura. But both groups spent a large chunk of the summer in the Sixth Kingdom. Wilhelm's younger brother Lazar was well liked by everyone. He was an easygoing red-head who shared his natural gifts freely and gave himself fully to his caravan. Wilhelm, however, was the opposite. He was dark haired, rebellious and distrustful. By the time he reached young manhood, everyone had developed a dislike for him. He was only tolerated because Lazar was so well thought of.
The trouble came when Lazar started showing an interest in a human farm girl in the Sixth Kingdom. He was too honest to lie about what he was. He asked the girl to marry him, proclaiming her to be his one true love. She was taken with him as well and announced the engagement to her horrified parents. They said they would never allow their daughter to marry a gypsy. And when they found out he was also a wolf, his fate was sealed. The girl's parents had Lazar killed because they were convinced he'd bewitched their daughter. Then they immediately forced her into a marriage with an elderly widower.
With Lazar gone, Wilhelm's position within the caravan crumbled. The gypsies began grumbling against him. If there had been a chance of finding a better life outside, Wilhelm would have left. But there wasn't. He thought perhaps if he married a gypsy girl, his caravan might see him in a better light. A wolf mates for life, but not all of them have the luxury of finding their one true love. Wilhelm realized that he would have to do the best he could with the women at hand. He tried courting some of the ladies in his own caravan, but none would have him because they all knew of his dark nature. That's when he started looking toward other caravans.
Pura was an extra daughter in a family that had far too many of them. Her mother told her that she had read in the cards that marrying this half-wolf would put her within reach of much wealth. Pura had agreed to the match because of this prediction. But in the years that passed, she came to believe that her mother lied to her simply to get rid of her.
The marriage between Pura and Wilhelm was not a happy one. He was faithful, but he was also moody and bad tempered. There was enough food and animal skins because he was a good hunter. But there was no closeness and certainly no wealth. During the full moon, his impatience with her and their fellow gypsies became unbearable. Eventually Wilhelm was shot by a farmer with a crossbow for poaching. When the farmer realized that he had killed a half-wolf, he gathered the local farmers together and they went looking for more wolves within the gypsy camp, vowing to kill any they found. Out of fear, the gypsies fled. They told Pura she should return to her father's caravan "for her own safety." But Pura also realized that they feared Wilhelm and his brother were cursed and that it might extend to her and her then unborn son as well.
With no where else to go, Pura returned to her old caravan. When Timka was born, she was relieved to see that he had no tail. But he had other wolf instincts and abilities, such as the increased sense of smell. When he hit puberty at thirteen, the wolf part of the boy became more obvious. He was restless during full moons and prone to trouble. Pura began staying apart from the other gypsies, except during the winter retreat.
When she climbed into Elsa's wagon, Pura found the old woman tossing various herbs into a small caldron, her pale lower lip almost sinking into its depths as she read the magic encased in the liquid.
"How much do you know of your husband's natural parents?" Elsa asked, her watery gray eyes looking up at the younger woman.
Pura had once had beautiful sable hair, but it was now threaded with white. She was very thin, but strong. She had kept her own wagon and horses by herself since the birth of her son, with no help from any man. "I know that my husband and his brother were rescued from a burning house when their parents were taken and burned for poaching."
Elsa nodded her white head. "That is true. I remember it well. Your husband's caravan was proud of their prizes. They looked forward to making use of the boys' great hunting skills and other wolf senses."
"Yes," Pura said, with a bitter laugh. "A great deal of good it did. Both half-wolves brought trouble to their caravan. They were cursed. I don't blame their adopted families for asking me to leave."
"Did you know that a half she-wolf with red hair came looking for your husband and his brother about a year ago?"
Pura shook her head, but leaned forward with interest, her worn shawl falling away from her shoulders.
"She said that Wilhelm and Lazar were her brothers, separated from her when their parents were murdered. Since they were both dead, your husband's adopted family didn't think there was any harm in telling her the truth. That Wilhelm had been killed as a poacher and that Lazar had been killed for showing interest in a human girl. But of course they did not mention you or Timka because this woman was not of our people.
"Yesterday one of Wilhelm's caravan brought me a new coin that someone had passed to him from the Fourth Kingdom. It was newly made in honor of King Wendell's bride." Elsa's gnarled hand pulled the coin from her skirt pocket and slid it slowly across the table to Pura. "The woman that's pictured on it, this Queen Rose, she's supposed to be half-wolf, descended from the House of Red. Your husband's family says this is the same woman who came to see them about Wilhelm and Lazar. They foolishly forgot to remember her name. But one other of our people heard the name of this new queen's mother. It was Scarlet and she was the sister of Queen Red Riding Hood II."
"Scarlet?" Pura's dark eyes darted around the dusty wagon as her pulse quickened.
"I see you've heard the name."
"Wilhelm said he could not remember his real parents, but that he'd been told their names were Scarlet and Josiah."
"Yes. Lazar's adopted mother, who is no longer with us, felt sorry for them. She insisted that Wilhelm and his brother keep their wolf names and know their real parentage. I remember her telling me long ago that Lazar looked very much like his mother. And I suspect this Queen Rose bears a resemblance as well. If all these things are so, and the visions within my caldron suggest they are, your son Timka may be of royal blood. You should take him to the Fourth Kingdom and claim his birthright. It will honor the gypsies and perhaps bring you wealth."
For the first time in many years, Pura smiled. Was this what her mother had read in the cards so long ago? "I will do as you say, Old Woman. After the full moon is over, I will go to the Fourth Kingdom."
- - - - - - - - - -
Wolf pulled an extra quilt over Virginia as she slept and tucked it carefully around her naked shoulders. She had the hint of a smile on her face. "My creamy dreamy delight," he whispered. But she didn't hear him. She was lost in a satisfied sleep. Unfortunately, his full moon appetites were not yet completely sated. Not till he'd gone hunting in the woods. "Watch over her," he said to the singing ring.
The ring smiled and hummed softly.
"I won't be late."
Wolf let himself out of their bedroom as quietly as he could.
As soon as he was gone, Raphaela flew off the bureau where she'd been left earlier and settled onto the bed next to Virginia. She wanted to be sure to be close at hand in case Virginia woke up feeling ill. The singing ring hummed a welcome. The first time Virginia had touched Raphaela's wooden surface he had known who she was. He could read her through touch just as he had been able to sense the presence of Virginia's baby. The ring knew Raphaela was Matilde's daughter because he'd seen the signs in her heart. He also sensed it was supposed to be a secret. The ring loved to divulge secrets, but at the same time he also knew how to keep them. He'd only slipped once when he'd told Wolf that Virginia was safe within her sister's care. But he'd been very careful since then. He knew Raphaela's intentions and he had a feeling that she would one day be very important to the unborn cub.
- - - - - - - - - -
Carpathian and Kobza were waiting for Wolf at the edge of the woods. When he appeared, they grunted at each other and bounded off, their desire for the hunt greater than their desire for talk. The frosty air excited their noses, making every scent tangier.
Kobza panted as he ran. When his four feet hit the ground all the air flew out of his lungs. Then as he pushed off, he gasped and the process would be repeated. Carpathian and Wolf ran silently on either side of him, their eyes and ears intent on everything. They ignored the gasps Kobza was making, considering it only the inexperience of youth. When they finally scented a deer, though, they looked at him sternly. As they moved forward to find their prey, their eyes became yellow with excitement.
- - - - - - - - - -
Rose also felt a desire to be outside. But her mind was too full to hunt. Like Wolf, she left Wendell in their bed, satisfied and snoring. Their room in the hunting lodge looked as if it had been the center of a mighty battle in which both participants had been the victor.
Rose was wearing a new suit of leather, with a wool coat thrown over it. She walked out into the woods and found an open patch with a great rock near the edge, perfect for sitting and staring at the sky. All around her the newly fallen snow glowed with a blue light.
"Moon Goddess," she prayed. "It's Rose. I've come to thank you for the wonderful gift you've given me. Let me be a good wife to my husband, give us children, and teach me how to care for my subjects as a queen should. Let me be worthy of this great responsibility you have given me."
From her throne on high, the Moon Goddess sparkled back. Rose listened, not feeling the cold radiating through her leather pants for quite some time. When it seemed the moon had nothing left to say, Rose said good night and returned to the warmth of her husband's bed, nudging him gently to get him to turn over and end his silly snoring.
- - - - - - - - - -
While Rose prayed, Matilde sat on the top steps at the front of Wendell's castle. Her crystal ball was on the step below her in the center of a dark gray shawl. She had told the guards they could warm themselves for a while and that she would keep a lookout instead. Everything was quiet, except for the occasional wolf call from the woods beyond. Matilde wondered if Wolf was out there too. At one point she noted three separate wolf voices raised in joyful triumph over what she assumed was a successful hunt.
So intent was the Ice Fairy that she didn't hear Tony come out at first. He looked at her for a moment without saying anything. Then he sat down next to her, his large feet crunching on the sanded stairs.
"I was wondering where you'd gotten to," he said.
"I'm just giving my crystal ball a moon airing. The full moon is very beneficial to magic things, you know. Especially when it's cold. The cold cleanses, the snow purifies, and the moon gives power."
"I see. And does your crystal enjoy the snow and cold?" Tony asked, half in jest.
"I don't know. I don't know how much she feels in her present state."
"She?" Tony's brown eyes blinked. "You're not going to tell me that that's another member of your family."
Matilde laughed. "No. That kind of thing doesn't happen very often. However, the crystal is invested with a very old spirit. I'm afraid I don't know anything about her, except that it's a her and that she once had another form. I'm not even sure my mother knew anything about her. And they were together for nine hundred years."
"Good friends were they?" Tony said dryly.
"In a manner of speaking."
"You people are very strange, what with friends and relatives becoming inanimate objects. But don't tell Raphaela I said that. I want her to think I'm a good step-father."
"She will."
"You know, it's very disconcerting sometimes when I wake up and find you're not there."
"I told you, fairies don't need much sleep."
"Yes." Tony took her hand and cradled it in his lap in both of his. "But sometimes the bed gets very cold. I start worrying that you might not come back."
"Like Christine."
"Maybe that's a part of it. The difference is I can usually find you in some part of the castle reading a book or going over Council business in Wendell's office. But it makes me want something more permanent."
"And?"
"And with Wendell and Rose married now, there's no reason for us to wait anymore. I want you to make an honest man out of me."
Matilde laughed and let her head fall to his shoulder.
"So what do you say?"
"Whenever you like."
"How about as soon as Rose and Wendell get back?"
"All right. But you're going to have to explain to Rupert that we want a simple wedding."
Tony's brown eyes sparkled. "I think I know how. I'll ask him to be best man. And before he floats down off the ceiling, I'll explain the rest."
"You think making him best man will be enough of a bribe?"
"Well, it's not a bribe really. I want him to stand up for me. We're old army buddies. Who are you going to get as maid of honor?"
"I think I've settled on Leaf Fall. She and I are on much better terms now and I like the idea of her being part of our little family. It would make Centaurea happy. Besides, if Rupert gets out of line and tries to make the wedding too big, Leaf Fall will be happy to pull him back into line. They'll sort of balance each other out."
Tony leaned down and kissed her. "You know…" he said in a low voice, "it's getting chilly out here. What say we let the guards get back to their duty and you and I can sneak upstairs and warm up the bed a little?"
Matilde smiled. "Just let me collect the crystal."
- - - - - - - - - -
On Hunter's Island, Mazarin the wizard was sitting on the floor of his room in a muddle of purple robes in front of a small makeshift altar. On it were his three most prized possessions, with the fourth close at hand. The first item was the amulet of jet that had helped bring him back from his prison dimension. It had been given to him by his mother when he was a child. The second item was a small dragon tooth from his pet dragon. He had found Baby as a hatchling and she had been his only comfort while he was held prisoner. The final item was a swatch of clothing, a piece of gray canvas torn from a cape that his father had once worn. His cane with the onyx top was lying on the floor next to him. It was his fourth most important possession.
Mazarin touched each of the items on his altar and examined them carefully in the light of the old candle that the trolls had found for him. All the other light they were using in the castle was magical. But for his altar Mazarin had insisted on real fire.
As he held the cool piece of jet, he remembered his fairy mother. She had been a beautiful Ice Maiden with beige blond hair. He remembered how radiant she looked in her shining armor. She was a stunning symbol of strength and bravery. He remembered when he was little how he would cry whenever she had to leave to go into battle. She gave him the jet amulet to remember her by. "Touch it," she had said, "and I will be with you in spirit." Not long after she had been lost in a battle with the Satyrs and Hsigo that Matilde's mother Sabirah had been trying to control. One of the Hsigo had charged down on her from the sky and killed her. Mazarin rubbed the smooth black surface of the fossilized wood and wondered if things would have been different if she hadn't died.
He put down the jet amulet and picked up the swatch of gray cloth. After Mazarin's mother died, his father had raised him alone. His father had been an ordinary human man, with no intelligence or talent of any kind, only a weak flabby face with dark hair thrusting up around it. From what Mazarin saw, he was also without dignity or pride, for he was always prostrating himself like a slave in front of Matilde's mother. Sabirah had never demanded this from him, but he did it all the same. Mazarin's father saw himself as a beggar, living on the edge Sabirah's court as a perpetual dependent. Mazarin grew up ashamed of him, wondering what his mother the proud warrior had ever seen in him. Mazarin ripped this piece from his father's cloak when he was about to buried to remind himself not to be anyone's servant. Instead, he was to be the master.
And Baby? Mazarin fingered the little dragon's tooth that had been lost when Baby had been a hatchling. She was probably the only thing he'd ever loved unselfishly. She'd been so sweetly dependent on him while she was growing up. She was immense now, a great green dragon with purple wings and golden horns on her head. She was a fierce hunter too, afraid of nothing. But when he scratched her chin, she would make a contented gurgling noise in her throat. She was a descendant of the last dragons of Dragon Mountain, sent to that other dimension by Matilde's mother, so very long ago. He assumed Matilde had imprisoned him in that dimension because it was already known to be uninhabited except by animals and plants.
And Matilde? Thoughts of her made Mazarin reach for his onyx topped cane. It was a brown and cream colored stone, purchased by him when he was a young man, almost five hundred years before. Onyx is supposed to stunt the sexual appetite. Mazarin had gotten it so that his hunger for Matilde would leave him. It had, despite what Zafira might suspect. He kept the stone close at hand now so that he would never again feel so tied to anyone. Of course that was relatively easy to do with Zafira as a consort. She had served as an amiable servant, carrying out his orders during The Magic War and his imprisonment. She was eminently useful. But she habitually showed him that same servile expression that his father used while prostrating himself before those he considered his betters. Zafira was not the strong warrior in her own right that his mother had been, and Matilde still was. Zafira was a servant. Only slightly better than the trolls. He could never be serious about a servant. They were a tool and nothing more.
While he was still thinking of these things, Zafira came in. She was dressed in a diaphanous gown of powder blue, her reddish brown hair cascading down her back and dividing over her delicate wings. She stood for a moment, waiting for him to acknowledge her presence. When he did not, she spoke. "Master?" she asked softly. "Mazarin?"
"What is it?" he asked without looking up.
"I've spoken to our members by mirror as you asked. They are all in place. The group near the Northern Sea has found three goblins that they think can be bribed to dive and search for the traveling mirror."
"Good," Mazarin said, still not looking up. "With my mirror broken in Kissing Town, and the second in the hands of Snow White's grandson, it's the only one we can access without creating suspicion."
"There is a full moon tonight," Zafira said, coming into the room. As she passed him, she let the hem of her gown float near his face. She had scented it with her favorite perfume, lily of the valley. "I thought we might have some time together."
Mazarin didn't answer. If he'd caught the scent of her perfume, he gave no hint of it. Instead, he put down his cane and picked up the swatch of gray cloth again.
Zafira turned back the covers on the heavy bed near the window. The trolls had brought the linens from a room on the second floor. The comforter had once been a deep burgundy, but it was seriously faded now. The sheets were the color of ancient papyrus, aged into a wonderful softness. Zafira ran her hand over the pillow. Mazarin had been away a long time. She had been hoping that their reuniting would be full of passion. But it hadn't turned out that way. He hadn't so much as touched her or even really looked at her since he'd been back. True, he had never been the most attentive of lovers. Still, there had been some spark between them before he'd left. "Mazarin?" she asked. "Why don't you come to bed?"
"Not now. I have things to think about."
"Please?" She floated to his side and ran her hand gently through his long brown and gray hair. "It's been so long," she whispered. She reached for his onyx topped cane, knowing the questionable power of the stone on its tip. She thought maybe if she at least put it out of his reach.
"No!" he said, pulling the cane back. They each had an end of it now. "I said I have things to think about. Now leave me!"
"But…"
"LEAVE ME!" he roared, his eyes flashing red.
Zafira let go of the cane. Mazarin put it on his lap and continued examining the little collection of items on his altar as if he had never spoken to her, as if she had never come into the room. There was nothing for Zafira to do but leave.
The old hunting lodge was very quiet and cold. Since fairy fire and fairy lights had freed the trolls from worrying about firewood, they often went out at night to hunt. Zafira hadn't heard or seen anything of them since they'd served dinner hours before. That was fine. Neither she nor Mazarin could stand the sight of the horrid creatures. So low and disgusting were they.
As Zafira climbed into her lonely bed, she noticed that dark clouds had moved in to cover the glow of the moon. There had to be something she could do about the negative magic of Mazarin's cane. She would never be able to get it away from him. But perhaps she could counteract the spell with another talisman, one that would make him love her as he had once loved Matilde so long ago.
And then it came to her…Cinderella's shoes. They were fabled to have a love spell in them. Perhaps after Mazarin cast his curse on the Nine Kingdoms, she could steal the shoes. No one would care or even notice by then. They would all be too busy panicking. Once she put the shoes on, Mazarin would love her. She was sure of it. True, the shoes only served one person at a time. But once Cinderella became incapacitated, the shoes would be free to go to a new owner wouldn't they? Why shouldn't she be the one to wield them and enjoy their blessing?
