And this time, he couldn't remember where he was or what he was doing there; he gazed around at what was clearly a stall in a stable without any idea of how he had gotten there. Before he could get his thoughts clear, he realized that there was someone standing over him.
'All right with you, lad,' said the voice above him. 'Time for you to go to work.'
Work? But — Then it hit him all over again. For a second time the memories came back to him in a rush, but this time he was feeling too sick and his head hurt too much to sustain the rage. He lifted his head from the straw and looked blearily at his captor.
It took him a moment to realize that it wasn't a human, although it was a male.
The — man? — couldn't have been taller than three feet, but he was as weather-beaten and wizened as an old man. He had overlarge ears that came to hairy points, and wore clothing that Alexander associated with common laborers or peasants; homespun shirt, leather breeks, canvas tunic. His clothing looked new and clean, though, and the creature had a bridle in his hands.
A bridle? He wouldn't! The man wouldn't dare!
Alexander opened his mouth. He was going to say, 'I am a Prince of Kohlstania, and I demand to be restored!' except that what he started to say came out in a bray, and anyway, as soon as he opened his mouth, the creature jammed a bit into it. And the next thing he knew, his head had been trussed up in the bridle, and the creature had the reins firmly in his hand.
'Up with you!' the creature said, and he must have been immensely strong, because somehow he hauled Alexander to his feet by main force. The Prince swayed there a moment, torn between rage and fear. He'd always thought of himself as a brave man, but this time it was the fear that won, and he tried to bolt, only to find himself brought up short by the reins that were now tied to the manger. He reared and fought the bridle, kicking not at the man, but wildly, at random, trying desperately to break free.
'Hold still ye daft bugger!' said the little man, who then brought his fist down on Alexander's nose.
Hitting the manger with the top of his head had been bad. This was infinitely worse. Alexander went nearly cross-eyed with the pain. His knees buckled, and he almost fell. Darkness speckled with little dancing sparks covered his vision, and when he could see again, there was a harness on his back as well as the bridle on his head.
The little man came around to the front of him and seized both sides of the bridle, pulling Alexander's head level with his. 'Now you listen to me, my fine young Prince,' said the man, staring into Alexander's eyes with an expression that was perfectly readable. Alexander had seen that expression on his father's face many a time; it meant, cross me and you'll pay for it. 'We know who you are, and we know how you come to be what you are, and we don't give a toss. You're not in Kohlstania now. You're in Godmother Elena's house, and what she says is law. You stepped over the line, my buck, and you'll take what's coming to ye like a man, or ye'll be treated like the brat she says ye are. You understand me?'
He was seething with every passionate emotion in the book, and they all tangled up with one another and got in each other's way. Run! said fear, and fight! said anger, and lie down and die said despair. He was trapped, trapped in the web of a Witch and even if he could get free, where could he go? He didn't know how to get home again, he didn't know where he was, and even if he did, how could he tell anyone what he was?
'There's no use you trying to run,' the little man went on remorselessly. 'Any peasant that sees you running loose is going to grab you to work his land and bear his burdens. Half of them can't read nor write, so it's no use thinking you can scratch out what you are in the dirt. And anyway, the ones that are literate around here are all beholden to Godmother Elena and before you can say 'knife' they'll bring you right back here. So. Until you mend your ways, I'm your master. You do what I say, and do it honestly, and we'll get along all right. You try to cross me up or give less than your best, and you'll find out that I'm no bad hand at fitting the punishment to the crime myself.'
He believed the little man. He believed every word. They had that ring of truth about them that he used to hear in his instructors' voices at the military academy. Despair won out over every other emotion, and his knees went weak. Oh, God, help me! he prayed. Deliver me from the hands of my enemies! He wanted to weep, and he was denied even that, for he was trapped in the body of an ass and animals could not cry. And God did not seem to be answering him today.
'I see we understand one another,' the little man said, with immense satisfaction. Then he looked up, and when Alexander in turn raised his head to see what the man was looking at, he found himself gazing into the knowing eyes of that terrible woman....
'No beating him, Hob,' said the woman.
The man frowned. 'But, Godmother — '
'I'm not saying not to give him a sharp stripe or two if you have to get his attention, but no beating. If you beat him, all he'll learn is the old lesson he already knows, that the strong have the right to enslave the weak. If he's ever going to warrant getting his old shape back, he has to learn better than that.' The way she was talking about him as if he wasn't there or couldn't understand her made him mad all over again. But the little man was still holding his bridle, and the memory of that blow to his nose was a powerful incentive to him to stand quietly.
'Now, my lad,' said the little man, 'it's time for you to earn your keep and get to work.'
Well, maybe he wasn't going to fight where he couldn't win, but he would be damned if he was going to be this woman's slave!
He set all four hooves and refused to move, staring at her and her minion defiantly.
'Ah. So that's how it's going to be,' said the woman, when all of the man's hauling could not make him move an inch. 'Good enough, then. Hob, tie him up and make sure there isn't a scrap of hay or a grain of corn about. But do put fresh water within reach; I want to teach him a lesson, not kill him or drive him mad.' She put both her hands on her hips and matched his defiant glare. 'If you won't work, you don't eat.'
He snorted angrily at her.
'Very well, have it your own way,' she replied. The little man tied his reins short, and left a bucket of water hung within reach. Then he, too, left, and Alexander was alone in the stable.
