Mwynder Mai
(Traditional Welsh summer carol, English translation by me)
The wizard of May works unseen in the night
Filling meadows and moorland with colors so bright
With soft dappled sunlight that dances at dawn
When on wings of joy merry May Day is drawn
January was cruel and harsh with its snow
February, wind whipping, did angrily blow
In March, little birds in the old trees were born
And primroses in April brought winter to scorn
Though cold snow and rough wind may tarry too long
Though summer be brief in its splendor and song
Though failure and fault plague the world to this day
An hour of Paradise we find in sweet May
In the town of Market Chipping, prosperous and respectable, all young women were well-warned to under no circumstances go near the wicked-looking castle that roved the hills and moors. Unless they wanted their hearts eaten, that is.
Howl found it amusing in a cold sort of way. After all, wizards don't eat hearts - fire demons do.
It was dark in the castle that night. Dark and quiet. Michael had retired to bed hours earlier and the only light was Calcifer's blue-green flicker. Damnation, what was it about watching a fire that so hypnotized one into such bothersome introspection? Of course, in his own defense, this fire afforded him a great deal more self-reflection than the average person. Nestled at the bottom of the grate was that lone coalish lump that never burned, only pulsed rhythmically in the heat of the flame. It was an odd thing, being heartless. In many ways, it was not at all how he had expected it would be.
But then some aspects were exactly as one would think. While he'd never been particularly keen on commitment of any kind, he could no longer look at a pretty girl and see anything more than a game to be played, like a cat toying with a mouse. Even so, each time he would fool himself into thinking this was it, this was true love. But the thrill was only ever in the chase and without fail it would end. Suddenly the mouse would transfigure into a moonstruck young woman and the cat was just a man who couldn't love her. Not properly, at least.
And yet he couldn't stop himself from repeating that same old song and dance over and again, even when it got him in trouble. Some childlike voice of naivety would inevitably chime in with If at first you don't succeed, try, try, try again . And so, like the spider and its waterspout, he kept trying, chasing after something as out of reach as the stars that hung in the sky. If nothing else, he supposed, the pursuit was often a welcome distraction from other, less pleasant, things. Like the looming threat of the King pinning him down to go chasing after Justin and Suliman right into the waiting hands of the Witch of the Waste.
He shuddered at the very thought, a chill running down his back. Calcifer flared slightly, peering up at him through two small orange flames, but said nothing. The fire demon had already made it clear he wasn't pleased at being kept up through the night with extra work, but they both knew how important it was to do whatever possible to keep the Witch at bay for as long as they could. And in the old ways, May Eve called for fires of warding, he'd certainly studied enough to know that. Calcifer wasn't much of a bonfire in size, true, but he was powerful, which was especially necessary this night.
It was a Spirit Night, after all, when the veil is thin and magic flows more freely, spirits roam and witches draw more power. Not a time to take risks or be caught off guard. They had worked further misdirection spells to throw off any divination or finding the Witch may try. He had gathered blackthorn and alder for Calcifer to burn. He had even sprinkled some of the ashes over his shoes. Superstitious, perhaps, but he would certainly feel better if they could pass this night without incident and have a celebratory May Day.
May Day would take his mind off his misfortunes, at least for a brief while. The streets of Market Chipping were sure to be abloom, not only with flowers but every eligible young lady in town. And he had a bet on with himself over how many would be wearing bespelled hats.
Not two months past he had encountered a young woman in a strikingly pink bonnet. She had smiled at him and her dimples shone like beacons and in that moment she seemed the loveliest girl in all the land. A man could easily fall head over heels for her charm - at least, a man in possession of his own heart. He was merely intrigued. Having noticed that one, he couldn't stop noticing the absurd amount of enchanted hats walking around. A new magician must have set up shop in Market Chipping, clearly one with no compunctions about attraction spells.
That rather spoiled the game, he thought. It simply wasn't sporting to mix magic and love like that. Sure his own bathroom may have contained enough cosmetics to supply a cabaret, but those weren't attraction spells, really, only… enhancements. Nothing wrong with taking a little pride in one's appearance.
At long last, the room began to lighten. Through the window above the workbench, he could just see the sunrise glimmering over the sea at Porthaven and hear birdsong rising with the dawn. The night's darkness was dispersing and summer was officially upon the world.
He stood and stretched. "Calan Mai hapus," he said, stifling a yawn. Thank goodness for magic! He'd easily be able to erase any trace of the sleepless night from his face before going out.
"Hmph, happy indeed," Calcifer fizzed, apparently ready to start in griping about exploitation again now that the relief of the morning had come, but Howl was already halfway to the bathroom.
"Hot water, Calcifer," he called over his shoulder, "I'm going Maying today."
"Vain man," Calcifer chided.
"We all have our vices, old blueface," he tossed back as the bathroom door shut behind him.
Despite his grumping, Calcifer did seem to enjoy the season, really. And though the fire demon didn't understand much of Wales, it was clear he couldn't escape the soft spot in Howl's heart for the old songs, with how often he took to singing them to himself. As the water began to run, Howl could just make out the tune of Mwynder Mai in the crackling of the fire.
Though he certainly wasn't free of her, the Witch hadn't managed to catch up with him just yet. That was something, at least. But who could say how much longer he'd be able to keep clear of her clutching fingers, especially in the face of growing pressure from the King. He supposed it was too much to hope that Suliman hadn't returned from the Waste because he had actually fallen for the Witch himself, that a letter would soon arrive announcing the pair's engagement and proclaiming all was forgiven because they were really far too much in love to bear anyone a grudge.
Rifling through the scented potions on the shelf above the bath, he chose hyacinth. No, even heartless Howl couldn't wish that harpy on anyone, much less a fellow countryman. Taking up a dingy rag, he took a swipe at one of the mirrors, clearing away just enough of the steam and grime to admire the reflection underneath. If that old wizard of May looked half so fine as Howl, doubtless he wouldn't be content to do his work unseen.
Preening was an art that couldn't be rushed and the sun was significantly higher in the sky by the time Howl stepped out of the castle onto the hillside. It was clear even from here that Market Chipping was abuzz with merriment. In all its quaintness, this little town put him rather in mind of his childhood village.
An all-too-familiar bittersweet longing passed over him. If only Megan could visit him in Ingary, see the work that he did here, maybe then she would— the sunlight glinting off the silver insets of a trailing blue sleeve caught his eye and bitter overtook sweet. He knew what she would do. She would say he looked ridiculous and berate him that this wasn't at all what she meant when she went on about proper suits and decent jobs and family pride and did he actually think it was proper thanks for their hard work and sacrifice to spend his time gadding about in another world... But, really now, Megan wasn't here, why should he upbraid himself in her place? That was ridiculous.
In the streets of Market Chipping, he stood out only for the exquisiteness of his finery, which suited him very well indeed. There was a sudden volley of loud bangs and he turned back to the hillside to see distinctive blue flames erupting from the turrets of the castle, flinging up fireballs which burst into showers of sparks in the air. It seemed an unusually enthusiastic display from the dour demon, but Howl didn't care to pay too much mind as he sidestepped a stilt walker festooned in maypole ribbons to join the crowd in Market Square.
For all the town gossip about the wicked Wizard Howl, no one seemed to actually know what he looked like, which was perfectly alright with him. That meant a false name was the only disguise necessary to enjoy the festivities as any ordinary person could, something he'd never be able to do in Kingsbury or Porthaven.
Weaving through groups of men already swaggering with drink, Howl surveyed his prospects. Young ladies wandered mostly in pairs, performatively coy but clearly eyeing up their own options in turn. The whole square was alive with stamping, calling, whooping, and laughter. Howl's gaze soon landed on a strange sight - a lone girl, dressed head to toe in staid gray, who clung so tightly to the buildings lining the street she seemed to be trying to melt into the shadows. In between nervous glances at the crowd, she appeared to take an inordinate interest in her own feet.
It simply wasn't right for a girl so pretty to be alone on May Day. Someone ought to help her enjoy herself. It would only be the gentlemanly thing to do, really.
But as Howl approached, she attempted to disappear, shrinking into the doorway of a shop and staring at him with eyes so wide in terror it seemed she was afraid he might devour her heart then and there. He was a little taken aback - did he really look that wicked?
"It's all right, you little gray mouse," he laughed, trying to put her at ease. "I only want to buy you a drink. Don't look so scared."
She found her voice and stammered back, "Oh, no thank you, if you please, sir. I'm on my way to see my sister."
"Then by all means do so." Howl really couldn't help but to laugh, this poor creature was so cartoonishly piteous. "Who am I to keep a pretty lady from her sister? Would you like me to go with you, since you seem so scared?" All games aside, he really felt it was the least he could do, having apparently startled her so badly.
"No. No thank you, sir!" she exclaimed, sounding very nearly breathless. She dodged past him, took off in a run, and vanished into the crowd.
He stared after her, perplexed. It was a shame she'd dashed away so quickly. There was something interesting about that little mouse he hadn't had time to quite put his finger on. He sighed. Some women were simply inscrutable, honestly. Digging a silver coin from his pocket, he ducked into the inn next door. Girl on his arm or no, he needed that drink.