Fairy Godmother

trampled his own brother? He tried to fight the hobbles, and all he did was nearly fall over; his horses stared at him down their long noses with astonishment, as if they couldn't imagine what he was doing or why he was there. He tried to fight the ropes around his neck, but the Witch had tied them cunningly; if he fought them, they choked him and only when he hung his head in resignation did they relax and let him breathe.

I have to warn Julian — That was his thought, but it came too late, for Julian rode into the clearing on his handsome black palfrey just as he realized the danger, and Alexander couldn't get the breath even to bray a warning.

'Kind sir?' whined the old hag, both hands outstretched. 'They've turned me out as too old to work, kind sir, and — '

And Julian, soft, foolish Julian, was out of his saddle in a moment, helping the old witch to her rock, fussing over her as if she was his own grandmother. He ran to get water for her, then rummaged through his saddlebags.

She's going to kill him! Or worse than kill him! He tried and tried, but he couldn't get free, his balance wasn't right and he kept falling to his knees — he kept blacking out from lack of air!

'Here, old mother,' Julian said, gently putting half a loaf of bread in her hands and closing her hands around it. 'It's all I have — I wish I had more, but if you'll bide just a bit, I'll see what I can hunt for you — '

'Ah, nay, good sir — you're too kind, too kind — ' the old woman said, sounding absolutely delighted, and of course, she would, she'd just gotten all of Julian's provisions off him, and he was a terrible hunter —

Oh, Julian, Julian! he thought in despair, waiting for that stick to come out, for Julian to be turned into something horrid. It was a plot, that was what it was. It was all a plot by Stancia or that Sorcerer or both, to strip Kohlstania of its heirs and send their father into despair. There probably wasn't a Quest — there never had been a Quest —

'Now, then, old mother, just you wait,' Julian was saying, with that good-natured grin on his face that drove his father mad. 'You'll have a good meal, and I'll put you up on Morgana here, and we'll all go on into Fleurberg together.'

Now he froze, eyes bulging with fear, but unable to understand what was going on. She hadn't done anything to him. Why hadn't she turned him into something? Nothing was happening as he'd thought! He stared at them through the underbrush, feeling his upside-down world flipping for a second time.

The old hag was hiding her face in her hands, and for a moment, Alexander hoped again. Was her conscience overcoming her? Was she going to let Julian go?

But then something — odd — happened. She seemed to shimmer all over, as if she was caught in a heat- haze, and then —

Then she changed.

Her clothing was what he saw first; it — un-aged. Somehow, all in a moment, it got newer. The fading, the frayed bits, they all went away, and as her clothing changed, she began to stand straighter, that old-lady hump on her back vanished, her hair went from straggling and grey to golden and curling and her face —

Well, she certainly wasn't an old hag anymore!

Julian stared, too, gape-mouthed, as the handsome young woman lifted her head and looked him over boldly with a twinkle in her eye. 'You are certainly an improvement over your brothers,' she said.

She lifted the stick and made a tiny gesture, and the peasant's clothing she was wearing transformed again, this time into something pink and satiny and shining, a gown his own mother would not have been ashamed to wear, and there were diamonds at her throat and wrists and ears, and the stick in her hand was now a long, slender, ivory-white wand.

Alexander stared and stared, blinking in disbelief. So, too, did Julian.

What's going on here?

There was something about the way the woman looked — it tickled the back of his mind, something he remembered from a long time ago. From a distant part of his memory, he heard a voice he'd thought he'd forgotten, a woman's voice, speaking softly. 'Once upon a time, there was a lovely princess who was guarded by her Fairy Godmother....'

Julian, poor fool, stood there with his mouth dropping open. Not that Alexander was in much better case.

She's got to be an Elven Queen. But why ambush us? Why go through all of this to intercept us?

Finally — 'Are you — one of the — ' Julian stumbled over the words, not surprisingly, as they didn't come readily to one from Kohlstania ' — one of the Fair Folk?'

She laughed; there she did not resemble a fine lady of a lofty court at all. It was a hearty laugh, and rang around the clearing; it didn't tinkle like a tiny silver bell, nor did she hide her mouth behind her hand when she laughed.

'No, Julian, but I am a Fairy Godmother. And your kindness and courtesy to an old woman shall have its reward. I am here to help you on your Quest.'

She's here to help us? Alexander could hardly believe his ears. Fine help she's been to me! And what did she do with Octavian?

But then, from somewhere deep inside, perhaps the same place as that memory, came another set of thoughts. When you thought she was nothing but an old peasant woman, you would have dismissed her as something less than the dirt in your path. And you tried to run her down the moment you thought she might be a threat, without waiting to see what she would do or answering her cry for aid. You seem to have forgotten all those knightly vows you took, and you haven't exactly proved yourself worthy of help. Have you ?

He felt his ears flattening against his head, and he gritted his teeth. I am a Prince of the blood!