Fairy Godmother

More of that cursed magic! A surfeit of magic! When had he ever had anything to do with magic? Oh, he knew it existed, but at a distance. The peasants called on Witches and other magicians to help them, because they were — well — stupid peasants. It was not the habit of the sophisticated folk of the towns to do so; or if they did, they did not do so openly. Certainly not one of the people of King Henrick's Court ever used magicians, for his father prided himself on surrounding himself and his sons with people who were rational and logical, and had no need of magic. Magic was for those who did not have the intelligence to come up with other solutions. Magic was for the weak, for it relied on weak little things like potions and talismans. The strong used their own will and force of arm to bring about what they desired. It appalled him in a way, how quickly he had come to accept so quickly that magic really was strong enough, after all, to bring him to his knees.

And it had. It had brought him to his knees. Because when the little man arrived just before darkness fell, with the last bucket of water for him, he heard himself saying — or rather, braying — 'Stop.'

The little man looked down his long nose at him. 'Oh?' he replied. 'You have something to say to me?'

'I'll work,' he said, in despair, so hungry now that he was positively nauseous. 'I'll work tomorrow.'

'I see.' The little man put his bucket down, and regarded him skeptically. 'So I feed you now, and in the morning, you decide that you won't work, after all. I didn't fall off the turnip cart yesterday, young man.'

Alexander shook his head impatiently, unable to comprehend just what that was supposed to mean. 'I pledge it. My word of honor. Feed me, and I'll work.'

The little man hmphed and glared at him.

'Word of honor. My word as a Prince of the Blood and a knight,' he repeated, his temper starting to rise. Just who did this dwarf think he was, to question his word?

'Just now you're an Ass of the Blood, and more like the thing the knight would use to carry his squire's bags,' the little man observed, crossly. 'And you certainly weren't acting like a knight when you tried to run the Godmother down. But the Godmother said you might make that sort of pledge, and that I was to accept it if you did. All right, then. Pledge accepted.'

He left the bucket of water, went off somewhere, and returned with a pottle of hay and a great wooden scoop of something. Alexander felt his nostrils widening again as he greedily drank in the scents, and identified them as not only the best clover-hay, but a scoop of grain as well. The oats went in the manger, the hay in a hay- bag the little man tied to the side of the stall, and then it was a matter of a moment and the little man had the bridle off as well.

Alexander had no thought for him; his nose was deep in the grain and he was on his first mouthful when the man hit him — lightly, this time — between the ears.

'Mind!' the man said sharply. 'You're a man, think like one, ye gurt fool! Eat too fast and ye'll founder!'

Curse it! He's right. So though his empty stomach was crying out for him to shove the food as quickly down his throat as he could, he did nothing of the sort. He chewed each mouthful slowly and carefully, counting to twenty before he took the next — and he wasn't taking big mouthfuls, either, just dainty little bites. He didn't shove all the grain in first, either; he alternated. One bite of grain, one mouthful of hay torn from the net, one sip of water.

He would never have believed that anything could taste as good. It surprised him, actually; he'd expected the hay to taste like — well, hay. It didn't; it was a little like dry cake, a little like new peas, and there was just the faintest hint of nectar; in fact, it tasted like new-mown hay smelled, utterly delicious. As for the grain, it was earthy, a little bit truffle-flavored, and a lot like bread-crust from the best bread he'd ever eaten. Well, no wonder horses seemed to enjoy these foods so much! It made him wonder what grass tasted like.

When the little man was certain that he wasn't going to eat fast enough to make himself sick, he took himself off with a grunt and a word of warning.

'I'm not going to leave you tied up tonight,' the man said, 'but remember what I said about running away. Try and run off, and you'll soon find yourself in more trouble than you think. If you're lucky, someone will eventually figure out you belong to Madame Elena. If you aren't, the work you'll be doing will make what I have planned for you seem like mild exercise. And if by some chance you actually manage to get into the deep forest — '

Something about the relish with which the little man said that made Alexander look up at him. He was grinning. It was not a sign of mirth.

' — let me just say that the packs of wolves in the forest would find donkey-flesh quite the tastiest thing to come their way in a long time. Fancy yourself being able to take on a wolf pack in your current shape?'

Since Alexander had no illusions about being able to take on a wolf pack in human shape, he shook his head.

'And that's just the wolves. There's other things in there you'd rather not learn about.' The little man slapped him on the rump. Alexander elected not to protest the insult to his dignity. 'So be a good little Prince and stay where I've left you.'

Only then did the little man walk out, leaving Alexander alone again. Only now he had a full stomach, and the ability to pick a clean spot to lie down in, and when he did so, he slept the dreamless sleep of the utterly spent.

It was Alexander's fourth day of working for the little man, whom he learned he was supposed to refer to as 'Master Hob,' and he ached in every limb.

He had thought, when he underwent his training as a knight, that he had worked hard. He had certainly exercised until he was ready to drop, and he had certainly gone from dawn to dusk — but it was not this bad. He had thought that he had exerted himself when he had been in the military academy. And he had indeed done hours of drilling in all weathers, but that had been nothing compared to this.