"I know who you are, Princess Merrigan. Your story is written in the magic tangling you."
"Tangled is a very good word! And I'm Queen Merrigan."
"Another holds the throne, and you never produced the heir to the throne, so you are not queen mother. You are once again Princess Merrigan of Avylyn."
"That's not quite fair."
"Fair?" The Fae woman shook her head, and for a moment it looked like she might laugh. "You need to grow more before anyone can have a discussion about what 'fair' means. That's not why I'm here. The debt you need to pay is a large one. If you keep interfering in the spells and reformation of others—"
"Interfering for the sake of justice! Would it have hurt you to go look at the girls' family before you started flinging blessings and curses around? Did you hear what she said, about her stepsister and her mother? She actually likes the little idiot. Since when does that happen?"
Merrigan shrank back as the Fae woman grew taller again, doubling her original size before suddenly turning transparent and fading into the breeze. She waited a minute or two, then cautiously reached out and snatched up her cloak, to wrap it around herself.
"Bib, do you think it's safe—"
"To flee? I think it might be wise to try. Whether you'll be allowed to ... who knows?"
Merrigan deliberately retraced her steps, hoping the spell against returning would activate and yank her somewhere far away, out of the reaches of the Fae woman.
She walked down to the main road, turned right, and set her feet toward the town farthest away, according to the mile marker. If someone were fleeing from her and needed a place to hide, she would expect them to go to the nearest town.
The magic codicil against returning never took effect.
When the Fae woman appeared in the road ten steps in front of her, Merrigan suspected she was the reason why the spell didn't yank her away.
"Just because you were right this time—this time—doesn't give you the right to interfere in a process established by tradition," the Fae woman began.
"Wouldn't it use up less magic if you straightened people out while they're still children?" Bib offered. "Convince them it's better to be friends with their stepbrothers and stepsisters, that there's more profit in working with the good boys and girls."
"Hmm, that ... does sound sensible." A weary smile softened the Fae woman's face. "You're right, book. Intervening sooner in the process would certainly use less magic."
"How many downtrodden girls and boys cheated of their inheritance can you marry off to kings and princesses? There's a limit. Eventually, you'll have to kill off someone's husband or wife, or convince the royalty to have dozens of sons and daughters to marry all the good boys and girls you help, and even then there's a limit to the number of kingdoms you can parcel out."
The Fae smiled, and that smile sent shivers through Merrigan deep enough to freeze her marrow. She nodded and grew taller, until her head stretched above the treetops.
"You are a very wise book. Whatever you do, Princess Merrigan, I would advise you to hold onto that book, no matter what it costs you. Listen to him and learn from his wisdom, and ... well, there's a very slim chance, a complicated chance, that you can break free of the spell before your required hundred years end."
"A hundred years?" Merrigan yelped. "Why a hundred years?"
"It's written into the spell. As I said, there's a chance. A very slim, complicated chance. You'll have to work very hard. Hold onto the book and learn wisdom." Then the Fae woman faded into the green shadows and silence of the road.
"A hundred years?" She wobbled and thought for a moment her knees would fold and deposit her right there in the middle of the road. "Bib, why a hundred years?"
"Unfortunately ... well, it seems to be a traditional number."
"We'll see about that." Merrigan took a couple deep breaths, straightened her shoulders, stiffened her knees, and took another step down the road. "If there's a chance, no matter how slim, then I'll find it. I will not—I cannot—" Her voice cracked. "I will not spend the next hundred years looking like this!"
BIB ADVISED HER TO travel in her black widow's weeds and to save her nicer clothes for when she reached a decent-sized town. If she wanted to be taken seriously and have people treat her as more than a beggar, then she needed to present herself as a seamstress looking for employment. The best advertisement was to look not only neat and respectable, but to have a sense of fashion despite her circumstances. When Merrigan stopped to rest on the unpleasantly long walk to the town of Wylder-by-the-Sea, she used the sewing supplies she had made sure to take with her, to adjust her secondhand clothes to advertise her sewing skills.
That gurgling little croon of happiness came back into her throat as she sat in the sunshine and snipped and stitched and used trimmings she had bought for Judge Brimble's clothes but never used. She was quite pleased with her new look, especially when Bib helped with his limited magic, making the adjustments go so much faster. Anything related to his physical state, he could manipulate. Since she had used glue and thread and needles and cloth and pins to fix him, he could "adjust" other such materials, just like he
