The Gargoyle’s Heart Part III

I had to pause this for a few days. There’s probably only going to be one or two more parts. You can read the previous segment here, and the first one here.

Over the next few weeks, Soria only found herself more confused. Apart from her regular, quickly-finished chores, there was a host of tasks she could not begin to contemplate completing even without the constant pain in her chest.

First, there was the infestation of sprites in the well—sprites were notorious for being difficult to dislodge and likely to produce nasty counter-magic if they sensed they were being got rid of. But at Lady Geraldine’s insistence, Soria merely edged up to the well and, wringing her hands on her apron, politely asked that they leave. And they left. They gave her the stink eye and one of them made a rude hand gesture, but they left.

There was the hole in the roof that needed patching. Soria, with no head for heights and no knowledge of shingles, patched it excellently, with Geraldine standing on the landing below reading her instructions from some arcane book on roofing.

And then the time the griffin appeared in the forest outside Lady Geraldine’s castle and began eating the local peasantry’s sheep herds. Lady Geraldine had Soria saddle up a horse (Soria had never sat on a horse in her life) and ride out to do battle with the thing. That time Soria had been absolutely certain that she was going to die, but somehow she managed to stay on the horse, and the horse seemed to know how to manage the griffin (not something she thought most horses knew) and the griffin flew away.

A more confident girl, or perhaps one that didn’t know she was working these miracles while suffering from a terminal disease, might have given herself some credit.

But Soria had centuries of stolid peasant wisdom ingrained in her: best to leave magical things to the magical class and keep yourself to yourself. Everyone had an aunt or a neighbor’s friend who had said something they shouldn’t to a sorcerer or a hedge witch and had consequently been turned into something unpleasant. Yet here she was, living inside of a magic castle, doing magical tasks, and working for a woman who, although she never apparently worked magic, was clearly involved in it.

To add to her anxiety, she was also becoming convinced that there was another person living in the house with them. An invisible person. Every morning when she went down to the kitchen, someone had stocked the larder with fresh foods. Sometimes furniture moved in rooms nobody had been in.

Once she brought inside a particularly beautiful flower from the castle gardens. After searching in vain for a vase, she grumbled aloud to herself that a woman as high born as Lady Geraldine really ought to have a pretty vase or two. Then she put the flower in an empty milk jug. The next morning, the milk jug had been replaced by a delicate glass vase.

“Oh, Lady Geraldine!” She exclaimed when she noticed it. “That’s a beautiful vase!”

Lady Geraldine looked primly over the rim of her cup and said, “Yes? What? Oh, I didn’t do that.”

“Then who did?” Soria asked before she thought better of it.

“Never you mind, dear. Now let’s get to work.”

Soria was uncomfortable with the idea of an invisible person (a he no less, as she remembered Lady Geraldine’s slip after the incident with the trolls) sneaking around, listening to her. But there was no chance of finding out about the invisible person. She could get no information out of Lady Geraldine about anything; curse, cure, or magical tasks. And the time for the next full moon crept ever closer.

Finally it was the day before the full moon. She still knew nothing about the cure, nothing about why she was there or what she was supposed to be doing.

While she was scrubbing the kitchen floor one afternoon, Lady Geraldine, sitting primly at the kitchen table, wordlessly pointed towards a missed spot and Soria snapped. She straightened, aware that her hair was escaping her bun and she was red-faced and holding a scrubbing brush. “I’ll clean this by myself, Lady.”

Geraldine frowned, hesitated. “Very well.” And swept out, looking indignant and upset.

Soria got back on her hands and knees but immediately spots swam before her eyes, and she had to stay there on all fours, breathing heavily her vision returned to normal.

This, she remembered with a jolt, was how it always felt to do housework when she had been helping her grandmother. Was Lady Geraldine only following her around for company? Or had she been, somehow, helping Soria?

But a worse thought occurred to her, and panic began to cloud Soria’s vision. Why would someone from the magical class ever voluntarily help a peasant girl? Wasn’t it much more likely that something had gone wrong, and she wasn’t supposed to have help doing all these magical chores after all? Was Geraldine testing her for worthiness, and was Soria somehow accidentally cheating? What would happen when Lady Geraldine discovered Soria wasn’t doing all these wonderful things on her own? Would she be thrown out of the castle to die?

She sat up, the soapy water from the tile floor gradually soaking into her knees, unnoticed. “I can’t do this on my own.” She whispered. “I can’t.”

Just then, very quietly, almost stealthily, the kitchen door creaked open. Soria spun round to look at it, but it was simply the kitchen door, half open. But then a moment later a sponge lifted itself from the mop bucket. Soria watched it in horrified fascination as the sponge sneaked (floating unsupported in mid-air but somehow definitely sneaking) across the kitchen and began scrubbing itself over the tile in a place she hadn’t reached yet.

Soria got to her feet and pointed her own dripping sponge at the stealthy one on the floor. “No!” She said, “You can’t help me. I’m not good enough to do this on my own; I should just be open and obvious about it. I’m not good enough for whatever magical test you’re wanting me to pass; please just go away and let me fail in peace! I wish I’d never heard the idea of a cure!”

She threw down her brush and ran up the stairs to her bedroom. There she stayed, all day, watching the sun cross the sky, and sink, slowly behind the trees. Then the moon rose, and the pain began as another sliver of her heart hardened to stone.

Outside her door, Lady Geraldine stood, her brow furrowed, and her lip bitten, listening to the sounds of the girl in the room crying into her pillow. She turned to the invisible person beside her and said, “Isn’t it time to help her yet?”

#fairygodmother #fairytale