Two

Dark clouds were scudding across the sky by the time I saw the enchanted forest. Hoping to find shelter before the rain began, I fought an ever-strengthening breeze. The leaves on the trees were dancing, exposing their paler undersides, when I reached the forest's edge. Even on sunny days, the interwoven branches of the ancient trees prevented most of the sunlight from reaching the forest floor. The forest was even gloomier when the day was overcast.

I hadn't been in the forest long before I passed a green-skinned nymph slipping into a pond. A pair of unicorns huddled under a sheltering tree. I was still watching the unicorns when a griffin flew past, buffeting me with its eaglelike wings so that I had to fight to regain my balance.

Winging my way through the forest, I studied the trees, trying to find a familiar landmark that would lead me to the witch's cottage. I finally spotted a singed tree that I recognized and was able to get my bearings. It wasn't long before I reached the clearing and saw the cottage, looking much the way I remembered it, although the roof seemed to be in better repair.

Noticing the smoke escaping from the crooked chimney, I realized that someone was inside, and I had to force myself not to flee. I reminded myself why I was there. Although I knew I had to visit the cottage to examine the old books, the closer I got to it, the more nervous I became. While we were frogs, Eadric and I had mistakenly asked a witch named Vannabe for help, but instead of offering her assistance, she had kidnapped us, carrying us to this very cottage. Threatening to cut off our tongues and toes, she had locked us in a cage until I had found a spell in a book that opened every lock, latch and knot in the house. The thought that Vannabe might still live there almost made me turn around and go home, but I was no longer a helpless frog. As the Green Witch, I was more than a match for an aspiring witch like Vannabe.

When I heard voices coming from the cottage, I decided to investigate. I hurried closer to the house, skimming over the tops of the wildflowers that filled the clearing. The first drop of rain splatted on my wing as I landed on the windowsill.

Two women were seated inside, but neither one was the young, black-haired Vannabe. I couldn't see the face of the white-haired woman who sat at the table with her back to the window. The other one, however, was facing me, a tiny, thin woman with gray hair and a sour expression that matched the tone of her voice. "You promised me fresh air and sunshine," she said. "Ha! Fresh dust, fresh pollen, fresh manure—I bet you even have fresh mold in this dung heap, but no fresh air! Why would you live in such a hovel? My dog has a better home than this."

"It suits me. I invited you to visit because I thought you'd like the change. You're always complaining about the town."

"Who's complaining? I love the town. At least a witch can make a difference with her magic there. What can you do out here in the middle of nowhere?"

The white-haired woman sighed and turned around. I was surprised when I recognized her, although I shouldn't have been. After all, I had been the one to tell her about the cottage. Eadric and I had met her in the magic marketplace the year before while searching for magic beans. She had given us the beans in exchange for information about a jar of eyeballs that she claimed belonged to her. I'd seen the jar in the cottage when I was a prisoner, and I saw it again now, sitting on the table in front of her.

Unlike the day we'd met when she had one eye rattling loosely, she now had two eyes in her head, although they didn't match each other. The vivid blue eye seemed to fit better; the brown eye with flecks of gold bulged from the socket. She had a large black mole on her cheek, and her toothless mouth seemed to collapse in on itself. Surprisingly her words were clear when she spoke. "I can rest, Dyspepsia. It was peaceful here until you came."

I needed to talk to these women and ask if they could help me. Jumping to the ground, I thought for a moment and recited my usual spell to become human. As I shot up to my normal height, everything seemed smaller and less intimidating. My skin felt stretched and pulled, prickling all over when my feathers disappeared. I sighed with relief.

Smoothing my hair with one hand, I knocked on the door with the other. A moment later it opened with a bang. It was darker inside, lit only by the fire in the fireplace and the pale light coming through the window. After a drizzling start, it was raining in earnest now.

"Would you look at that, Oculura," said the gray-haired witch from where she still sat by the window. "We finally have company."

"You were the bird on the windowsill, weren't you?" Oculura asked, motioning me into the room.

I nodded. "I didn't mean to eavesdrop ...," I began, stepping into the cottage.

"Why not?" said Dyspepsia. "Listening in on conversations is often the only way to learn anything. I used to turn myself into a fly for that very reason."

"Until that man swatted you," said Oculura.

"He missed, which was a good thing for him. I would have been furious if his aim had been better."

"You would have been squashed if his aim had been better and in no shape to do anything about it."

"Hmph!" said Dyspepsia.

While the two women argued, I glanced around the room. It was neater than it had been before; the cobwebs and the old bird skeletons were gone, and the bat droppings had been scrubbed from the table and floor, which might have been why the room smelled so much better.

I looked toward the shelf where the books had rested. The dust was gone, and I was dismayed to see that the books were also missing. I was going to ask about them when Oculura turned to me, looking me up and down the way one might inspect a horse that was for sale. I half expected her to demand to see my teeth, but instead she said, "I know you from somewhere, don't I?"

I nodded. "We met at the magic marketplace. You gave us some magic beans."

"Hmm." Turning to her jar, the old woman selected two more eyes, popped out the ones in her head and stuck in the new ones. She blinked, then looked at me again. "That's better," she said. "I remember you now. You were with that nice young man. You told me about my jar of eyeballs."

I nodded again, unable to look away from her face. I could swear that the black mole that had been on her cheek was crawling onto her chin.

"So," she said. "How were the beans? Did they do what you needed them to?"

"Yes," I said, dragging my eyes from her chin. "They worked quite well, thank you."

"And the young man? Is he still as handsome?" Oculura asked, looking through her eyelashes coyly.

I couldn't help it—my eyes flicked back to her chin. "He's the same as ever."

Oculura frowned. "Hasn't anyone ever told you that it's rude to stare?"

I could feel my face turning red. "I'm sorry, but your mole—"

"It's not a mole; it's a facial tick. I got it the first night I slept on that lousy bed," she said, pointing at the sagging mattress in the back of the room. The old witch tapped the tick with her finger, but made no move to dislodge the little black insect. "I like it now. It's grown on me—kind of like a beauty mark, don't you think?"

"Very nice," I said, trying not to grimace.

"Why are you here?" demanded Dyspepsia. "I know you didn't come just to get beauty tips from my sister."

"I'm trying to find a way to end a curse put on my family. I was hoping I could look at the books that used to be on that shelf."

"You can. I put them in the trunk with my own

books. You can look at those, too. Mind you, I wouldn't let just anyone look at them, but you told me about this place and I've been very happy here, despite my sister's complaints." Oculura looked pointedly at the gray-haired woman, then stomped to the trunk and flung open the lid.

"Take your time," said Dyspepsia. "It'll be nice having someone else around. All my sister does is play with those eyeballs of hers."

"Here you go," said Oculura, dumping a stack of books on the table. "You can look through these."

While the rain drummed on the roof of the cottage, I skimmed through the books, taking note of the more interesting spells. Dyspepsia sat in her chair by the window, complaining about her aching feet, the rain, the size of the cottage, her sister's lack of attention, the time of year and everything else she could think of. Ignoring us both, Oculura examined her collection of eyeballs, trying each eye one at a time, then in different combinations with the others.

"Each one sees things a bit differently," she explained when I glanced at her for a moment. Holding up a startlingly blue eye, she said, "This one belonged to a poet. Everything I see through it is very clear." She pointed at another floating in the jar. "A camp follower owned that one. It's always looking for a certain kind of man. And this," she said, reaching into the jar and plucking out an eye with a dark brown iris, "belonged to an old wizard who could see the magic in everything."

Oculura fished around in the jar and took out two milky-white eyes. I wondered how anyone could see with them. "These are my real seer's eyes," she said with obvious pride. Bending over the table, she popped out the eyes she was wearing and tucked the seer's eyes into the sockets. "Now give me your hand." Taking one of my hands in both of hers, she closed her eyes and hummed tunelessly, then said, "You're having a tournament at your castle, and you're going to invite me! I accept. And I'll bring my sister. We're going to have a marvelous time. There will be jousting and food and some ill-used magic and—"

"What's that about magic?"

"But before the tournament you're going on a long trip."

"lam?"

"Yes," she said. "Just don't ask me where. These eyes are old, and they tire easily."

"What was that you said about ill-used magic?" I asked as she changed her eyes again.

"You should have asked while I had those eyes in. It's too late now. I can wear them for only a short time before they need to rest. Would you like to see any others?" Oculura picked up the jar and swirled the liquid inside. The eyes swirled, too, and I thought they looked a little queasy. "I can show you my first eyes if you'd like. They were a beautiful, deep blue and matched my favorite gown. My ex-husband thought they were my best features. I have them here somewhere. My mother named me Oculura because of my beautiful eyes."

"You always were her favorite child," muttered Dyspepsia.

"She was a colicky baby," Oculura said, gesturing toward her sister. "So Mother named her Dyspepsia. She's had problems with her stomach her whole life."

"Problems with my stomach, problems with my feet, problems with men.... I never did get married," said Dyspepsia. "Never met the right man. What about you, girl? Anyone special in your life?"

"Yes, as a matter of fact." My chest tightened as I thought about Eadric. He'd gone back to Upper Montevista nearly six months before to help his father, and I missed him so much. He was due to come back the following week, but sometimes even a week can be an awfully long time.

"Was it that handsome young man?" asked Oculura.

I nodded. "That was my Eadric," I said, trying to look cheerful.

It didn't take me long to finish going through the books, simply because there wasn't much in them that interested me. I kept hoping up to the very last spell in the very last book that there might be something....

"Find anything that you can use?" Oculura asked, dropping an eyeball back into the jar.

I sighed. "Not a thing," I said as I set the last book aside. "Now I don't know what to do. I've looked every place I can think of, but there hasn't been anything."

"Hmm," said Oculura. "You did say it was a curse, didn't you?"

"That's right. It affects the girls in my family after they turn sixteen."

"And you're not sixteen yet?"

"I will be next week."

"Then if I were you, I'd talk to my sister."

"But I don't have a sister."

Dyspepsia snorted. "She doesn't mean your sister; she means me! I used to specialize in curses. I had to give them up, though. Curses take a lot out of you. You have to be really worked up to cast a good, strong one. All that anger made my stomach hurt more."

"So you know a lot about curses, including how to end them?"

"Of course I do, and I'd tell you, too, if only..."

"If only what?" I asked.

"My feet really hurt. What I could use right now is a good foot rub."

"Foot rub? But I...."

"My own sister won't touch my feet, but I'd feel so much better if someone rubbed the ache out of them. I'm sure I'd feel like talking then."

"Fine," I said. "I've never rubbed anyone's feet before. I suppose you'll have to take off your shoes."

"Of course, but my back hurts, so if you don't mind...."

I sighed and reached for her foot. The things I do for my family, I thought as I slipped off the old woman's shoe.

Fortunately for me, Dyspepsia knew what she was talking about. I was soon so caught up in what she had to say that I forgot about the stickiness of her stubby toes and the way her feet smelled like rotten cucumbers. According to her, there were only two ways to end a curse. You could either persuade the person who had cast it to remove the curse, or you could do whatever the curse dictated. Unfortunately I couldn't do either since I didn't know who had cast it or exactly what it said. True, I knew a fairy had cast it; but that made it worse, according to Dyspepsia, since bargaining with fairies rarely worked. However, if I could find out which fairy was responsible for the curse, I might be able to get her to end it. Failing that, I'd have to try the solution imbedded in the curse, although fairies never made anything easy. I'd need the exact wording, and even that might not be enough.

"First things first, however," Dyspepsia said. "If you can't find any record of what really happened, you're going to have to go back to when the curse was cast."

"But it happened hundreds of years ago."

"You'll travel over time instead of distance. If you're strong enough, you'll be able to control the forces involved. If you're not, well, the curse won't matter to you anymore. The spell itself is simple. Just modify a basic search spell using an object from your destination as a focus. Since you want to go to a different time, your focus object must be from that time. When you want to come back, include when you want to return to in your spell. You won't need a focusing object since you're from this time."

I set her foot on the floor and picked up the other. "Oh, before I forget," she continued, "you'll need something to give your spell a little oomph. Everyone has a personal preference. I knew a wizard who could harness lightning to make his spells stronger."

"How did that work?"

"I can't say. No one ever saw him again, so it either worked or blasted him into dust."

"I don't think I'll try lightning," I said.

"Good idea. But whatever you choose needs to be portable so you can use it to come back."

"Anything else I should remember?"

"Of course. You're heading for a different location in time, but your location on the ground will remain the same. If the curse was cast long ago, most buildings and places will have changed since then. You're going to have to work your spell somewhere that has changed very little, or you might appear in the middle of a wall or at the bottom of a pond. Keep in mind that it should be out of the way. It wouldn't do to pop into the Great Hall or the queen's chamber. If you want to get the information you desire, you won't want anyone to know who you are or why you're there."

"It sounds complicated."

"It isn't really. I'm sure you'll do just fine. Oh, one other thing—make sure you don't change anything when you go back in time. Any change then could have a big effect later. Everyone always gives the same example: if you kill your ancestor, you'll never have been born."

"That doesn't make sense. If I killed someone, and then I didn't exist, how could I have killed him in the first place?"

"Don't ask me. I don't understand the details, I just use the spell and try to be careful. Now about my feet...."