Fairy Godmother

it only occurred to me that the Prince was the right age to be the baby's suitor when she turned sixteen — and that he was near enough to encounter her by chance, perhaps when out hunting — '

Except that the 'chance' would not have been 'chance' at all. The Tradition would impel the boy — who would be a handsome young man by then — towards the girl as steel was drawn towards a lodestone. The moment she turned sixteen, it would be inevitable. In fact, in either scenario, the Ladderlocks or the Tender Princess, that attraction would have taken place.

But the Ladderlocks would have killed him, it seemed. 'When she turned sixteen, even if she was a Ladderlocks — ' She faltered.

'But she would not have been rescued until she was eighteen,' Madame Bella said quietly. 'And before then, the Sorceress would have battened on the potential power of — well, far too many young men who died trying to bring the girl away.' For The Tradition did that; throwing Questers at the Quest, even if they died of it, until one of them achieved it. The power it invested in them would go to the nearest magician who was ruthless enough to take it. That was why the Dark Ones went along with The Tradition; they could batten on the power inherent in those who failed, for as long as they could keep the task so difficult that there would be plenty of failures.

'And our dear son would have been the first.' The Queen had risen gracefully to her feet, at last, and dabbed at her tear-streaked face with a dainty, lace-edged bit of linen. 'If you had not had the wit and the will to turn the infant's tale from one course to another — '

And at that reminder, Elena hastily brought out the tiny silver casket, in which resided the perfectly ordinary looking dried pea. She pressed it into the Queen's hands —

And there it was; that strange feeling of something looming, then as suddenly settling, turning away. As if a mountain had silently rotated to face a new direction, or an avalanche 'decided' that it would fall some other day.

The path was altered.

'There you are,' Elena said, seeing from Bella's expression that she, too, had felt the change. 'Keep it safe. And when, in sixteen years, your son brings home a beauteous young woman, and your courtiers demand proof that she is worthy to become their next Queen, place this beneath a pile of twenty mattresses and announce that this will be the test to prove that she is of royal blood — for only a Princess born would be tender enough to feel a pea beneath so much padding.'

'We will,' Colin pledged, taking possession of the casket. 'And until then, it will reside in the Treasury.'

Elena felt a little dizzy now with the effort she had expended in resetting the course of the tale, and let Madame do all of the talking after that. Not that there was much of it; even Kings and Queens did not engage in idle chat with one Godmother, much less two. It had occurred to Elena, and more than once, that people were happy to see a Godmother when there was trouble brewing, but as soon as the trouble had been sorted, they were just as happy to see the Godmother go. She wondered if that was the case with all magicians.

Perhaps it is even the case with heroes....

Nevertheless, though King Colin and Queen Sophia were far too polite to make it obvious that Bella and Elena made them uncomfortable, the uncomfortable pauses began to stretch into uncomfortable silences, and at that point, Madame very gracefully stood up and took her leave.

Very shortly after that, Elena and Bella were bundled up together in the sleigh, and the sleigh itself was soaring over the treetops, on the way home.

'Oh, heavens,' Elena said, then inexplicably felt herself bursting into tears.

Bella gathered her against her shoulder. 'There, now,' she soothed. 'It's all over. You've given Rosalie a daughter to raise, you've saved Colin's son from death, you've eliminated a Ladderlocks, and — well, I've done something a bit naughty. While you were dealing with Rosalie, I had Arachnia discharge some of her misgotten power by further enchanting our Sorceress, and locking her up asleep inside a ring of fire in a cave. It will take a hero to get past the fire and wake her, and there is quite a warning carved into the rock bed she is lying on. Maybe if she sleeps for a hundred years or so, she'll wake up in a better frame of mind.'

'And if she doesn't?' asked Elena, through her tears.

Bella shrugged; Elena felt her shoulder move. 'She won't be our problem anymore, she'll be the hero's.'

Her ironic tone of voice startled a shaky laugh out of Elena, who pulled a handkerchief of her own out of a pocket, and wiped her face with it. 'This is horrible, though — we're taking one woman's daughter away once she's sixteen, which I think is too young to marry — we're turning a poor bewildered peasant girl who will barely have seen a knife, fork, and spoon at place settings together, and imprisoning her in that golden cage of Manners. And The Tradition is going to make her wed a man she won't ever have seen before!'

'Rosalie will have her daughter for as long as most women do,' Bella pointed out reasonably, as the Horse increased his pace and the height they were flying at. 'The girl would probably have married as young as fifteen otherwise; most peasant girls wed early. Colin knows very well what it is like to be a peasant in a King's Court, and he will see to it that no one is unkind to her while he has teachers show her how to behave. And last of all, even if she remained with Rosalie, she still could have wound up in an arranged marriage with someone she didn't know!'

Elena blotted her eyes, and had to admit the justice of Madame Bella's words. Most of them, anyway.

'But marrying a man she doesn't know?'

'The Tradition will ensure that she falls in love with him directly when she sees him,' Bella replied, patting her hand soothingly, as the Horse tossed his head and whickered agreement. 'Colin and Sophia are raising a well- grounded boy; I believe that Clarissa will remain as much in love with her Prince as Colin and Sophia have with each other. Eleven years between their ages is no worse than most royal marriages, and a great deal better than many.'

'Maybe, but — ' Elena began.

'So what have we possibly done that is wrong?' Madame asked.

'I don't know — but we did the best we could.' On that point, at least, Elena was sure. She looked out over the head of the Horse, and saw that they were approaching the cottage. She had never been so glad to see a place in her life. She could talk this over with Randolf; he would understand. She could have a good meal, and Rose and Lily could talk of small things, and she could forget the cruel fates that The Tradition forced on people.