Twenty-Six

 

When the following day came, Abraham had to hunt for the girl. She was not in the tower chamber, nor the bedchamber below it. All day he peeped into rooms all over the sprawling castle, but she had hidden herself well.

It wasn't until after dark that he spotted a light in the maidens' tower that hadn't been there last night. Abraham gazed up at the flickering light, and all the pieces fell into place. She'd been frightened, so she'd taken refuge in the highest, most defensible tower in the middle of the castle. It was heavily guarded, too – she was taking no chances. Guards at the door, in a chamber partway up the tower, and more outside the door to her chamber at the top. If it weren't for his magical shoes, Abraham would have no chance of reaching her.

After making more holes in her tower walls than he'd find in a mountain cheese, finally he emerged in her chamber. Just as before, she was alone with her spinning table toy, and several baskets filled with spindles of spun thread.

The girl herself sat on the floor, weeping.

Abraham hesitated. He had little experience with weeping women, and he did not think this one wanted to be kissed as Maja had.

"I have come for your answer, as I promised," he announced. "Will you help me?"

She raised her red-rimmed eyes. "When you are responsible for all this? Why would I help you?"

Perhaps he hadn't explained himself well enough yesterday. "Because both I and my son will die unless you break the curse that afflicts my family."

"What about me?" she demanded, rising. "I will die because of what you did! If I do not turn all this thread into gold like you did yesterday, the king will have me killed. If you want my help, then fix the mess you have made!"

"You wish me to transform this thread?" Abraham hardly dared to believe it could be so simple.

She glared at him. "The king demands that it be done, after seeing the thread you transformed yesterday."

This must be the danger the seer had spoken of.

"So if I simply turn your thread into gold, you will agree to help me?"

If anything, the fire in her eyes burned even more deadly than before. "If you work your magic on it, then perhaps the king will let me live long enough to consider helping you. For if you do not, he will execute me in the morning."

He would have to save her.

"Very well." Abraham peeled off his gloves, and plunged his bare hands into the nearest basket. Spindle after spindle he touched, until they were all transformed, and then he started on the next one.

Behind him, he heard the girl tip out the basket he'd finished with. Checking his work, no doubt. But she would find no impurities in his gold. Its magical nature required no refinement.

He reached for the third basket.

"You've missed two." She held out the spindles, their pale thread seeming ghostly compared to the shimmering gold of their companions.

Abraham didn't dare risk touching her, especially not without his gloves. "Set them there," he directed, pointing at the wheel table.

"It makes much more sense to do them a few at a time, then place them in the basket once they're done. As I did, when I spun them," she said. "Then you won't miss any."

"I didn't miss any. I just may not have touched them for long enough for the spell to work," Abraham said.

"Well, the second basket had seven you didn't touch. That's ten you've missed. A systematic approach would be much more efficient. Yours isn't the only life depending on this being done right, you know."

Growling, he reached for a fourth basket and dumped the contents on the stone floor. He seized two in each hand, transformed them, then tossed them in the empty basket. "Happy now?"

"I won't be happy until the king releases me, and my husband returns. But at least now I might live another day."

Just as Abraham would not be truly happy until he'd saved his son and could take Maja in his arms again.

"What is this curse someone has cast on you?"

Her question surprised him. Could she not see?

"Someone cast it on one of my ancestors, and it follows his bloodline. So it was passed down to me, and my son. I did nothing to deserve it but be born into the wrong house."

"But what does it do?" she persisted. "You said it will kill you, but..."

"When my death is close, and I have less than a year to live, everything I touch turns to gold. Unless I wear these gloves." Abraham jerked his chin at the fur lined gloves on the table. "And then one day...or one night, in my father's case...it is over."

She nodded thoughtfully. "So you are given a year to improve your family's fortunes before you die. It does not seem like such a curse to me. All men die, and at least you have more warning than most."

Did she not understand? "We die young. In our prime. Leaving a young wife and child behind, who we cannot touch from the moment the curse takes hold. My family have called it the Touch, for that is the one thing we cannot do. Touch anyone we love. You cannot imagine what it is like!"

"I cannot touch my husband, for the king has sent him on some quest, while he keeps me locked up here. I do not know how long it will be before I can touch him again, or even see him again, for I do not know when he will return. So I know very well what it is like, though my misfortune is the work of men, you and the king, not some mysterious witch casting a curse!"

She was right, curse her, though he didn't dare say it. He set the last golden spindle in the now filled basket. "There. This one is done. On to the next."

She reached for it. "I shall check it first."

He sighed. He could not argue with that, either.