The Fairy Godmother by Mercedes Lackey Read Free Book Online Page B

and Elena wasted not a second; she tossed her bundle into the back of the cart and scrambled up beside the old woman. She didn’t even stop to ask what the position was—
    As they drove out of the square, she heard the man ask his son again, “Y’ant t’ go naow?” and heard the boy say, stubbornly, “No. Tain’t tomorrow, yet. I’m stayin’ till midnight.” She looked back at them, until the cart turned a corner and they were lost behind buildings, wondering what would happen to the poor lad.
    The little horse picked up speed, trotting with all his might and main, still showing no signs that the cart was too heavy for him, acting as if, in fact, it was lighter than thistledown. As they passed under the wall that encircled the town, and through the town gates, dusk descended.
    The little horse picked up his pace, until he was galloping, his tiny hooves flying—
    There was a bump , and Elena clutched the side of the cart. The old woman was making no attempt to rein her horse in, and he was going awfully fast. In fact, they were right out of sight of the town walls now, the cart bumping and rattling along at a rate that put her heart right in her throat!
    The cart gave a lurch, a bump, a wiggle, and a huge jolt that sent it flying into the air—
    â€”and—it—didn’t—come—down—
    She gasped, and clutched at both the side of the cart and the old lady’s arm, as they rose right up into the twilight sky, heading for the stars.
    She tried to cry out in fear—instead, she squeaked. Theold lady laughed, and tied off the reins. Elena looked down at the ground, and immediately regretted it.
    â€œDon’t look again, my dear,” the old woman said, cheerfully. “At least, not until you get used to it.”
    Elena tried to say something, but nothing would come out of her throat. Panic was the mildest description of what she felt right now—
    A Witch! She must be a Witch! That was the only possible explanation for this. A powerful Witch—a very powerful Witch, one that made Fleur look like—like—Elena! No wonder she wasn’t afraid of Madame, the way everyone else was. If she can make a cart and horse fly, she could turn Madame into a toad with a snap of her fingers!
    But what did she want with Elena? Well, Witches ate, and presumably needed their houses cleaned. Maybe it was easier to hire a servant than to do it all by magic.
    The old lady rummaged under the seat, nonchalantly taking out a basket. She flicked a finger, and a little round ball of light appeared over their heads, illuminating both of them. “I’m sure you’re hungry, Elena,” she said, with a cheerful smile. “Would you help me with this?”
    She began handing Elena napkins, a plate of sandwiches, another of little iced cakes, and cups of tea that somehow emerged steaming from the hamper. The cart was as steady as a house, and the seat between them became their table, spread with plates of food, a teapot, a small milk-jug, a bowl of sugar. It was absurd, impossible, ridiculous—and the very ordinariness of the cloth set for two, in the midst of all this impossibility, gave her a kind of anchor, something to grasp at. At this point, Elena’s store of shock was beginning to run out—she accepted a sandwich and cup in a numb daze.
    â€œWell,” said the old lady, in a nonchalant, matter-of-fact tone. “I expect you would like to know what this is all about.”
    Elena took a bite of her sandwich, automatically, because—well, because that was what you did with a sandwich. It was ham and watercress. Very good ham. In fact, she hadn’t had ham quite this good since she was a small child. “Yes, please,” she said in a small voice. Overhead the sky was a deep black strewn with the brightest stars she had ever seen. Beneath the cart was nothing but darkness.
    Which was altogether better than looking