East

Neddy

FATHER RETURNED home a week after Rose left.

"How is it that you, all of you, allowed her to return to the white bear?" he asked in disbelief.

"She said she must," I told him. "We could not change her mind. You know Rose when she is set on a thing."

"Was she bewitched, do you think?"

I shook my head. "She seemed herself, Father."

"She was well?"

"Yes. A little thin when she first arrived. But Mother fattened her with all manner of good soups and meat pies."

"Then she is not well fed at this—what did you call it?..."

"Castle in the mountain," I replied. "She said her meals are more than ample. It was homesickness that caused her to lose her appetite."

"Then will she not be homesick again? Oh, would that I had been here!"

We were having this conversation in Father's workshop, just the two of us. Suddenly the door flew open and there stood Mother, pale and breathing hard.

"I have done something ... Oh, Arne..." And she sank to her knees, weeping.

I stared at her in confusion while Father crossed the room and bent over her. "What is it, Eugenia? What has happened?" His tone with her was gentler than I had heard in a long time.

"You will never forgive me. I will never forgive myself," she gasped between sobs.

Father pulled her up and led her to a chair, where she slumped, clutching at the handkerchief Father gave her.

"Oh," she moaned, "why did I not give her only a handkerchief, and a bit of toffee candy? Fool that I was..."

"Stop this, Eugenia." Father's voice was still kind, but it held authority. "Tell us about it. From the beginning."

And she embarked on her tale.

As I knew, Mother and Widow Hautzig were regular visitors to Sikram Ralatt, the new shopkeeper in town who sold potions and charms in addition to his regular merchandise of soap and herbal infusions. Mother had purchased a handful of charms from him, such as the one she'd wanted Father to tie around his ankle before one of his journeys.

"When Rose was home, Neddy," Mother said, wiping her eyes, "I happened to overhear the two of you talking. It was about her sleeping arrangements at the castle. When Rose said she was sleeping next to some unknown creature night after night, I became frightened for her. I was afraid it might be some hideous monster, or a wicked sorcerer, or ... a troll..." She looked at both of us beseechingly.

Father opened his mouth to speak, a confused look on his face, but Mother plunged on.

"I knew that if I spoke to Rose about it, she would brush me off, saying there was nothing to worry about. I was so upset that I confided my concern to my good friend Widow Hautzig, and she advised me to go straight to Sikram Ralatt, to see if he had some charm that would protect and help my dear Rose. So I did—I told Sikram Ralatt about someone close to me who was in danger, who slept in a room that because of some spell or another was impossible to light. I asked him what could be done. And it was then he sold me the flint and the candle."

We stared at her, Father in complete bafflement and I in horror.

"I ... I gave them to Rose," Mother went on. "I said nothing to her, leaving it to her own inclination whether or not to use them. But I confess that I hoped she would. That her curiosity would lead her to light the candle and look at who was beside her."

"Well, Eugenia," Father said, still perplexed, "perhaps it was not well to meddle, but I do not see..."

"You haven't heard the worst of it, not yet," Mother interrupted, tears spilling down her cheeks. "I ... I went into the village today and found that Sikram Ralatt is gone, disappeared without a trace, his shop cleared out, empty. As I went about, inquiring after him, I learned that he vanished the very day after Rose left. And what's more, there are all sorts of terrible rumors flying about the village. That he was ... he was..." Fresh sobs shook her shoulders. "Oh, what have I done, what have I done?!"