My Fair Godmother

  Tristan picked up Jane’s backpack from the floor, took it to the bed, and unzipped it. “In the original fairy tales, fairies were often seen as mischievous, dangerous tricksters. They did things like steal children. Smart people didn’t trust them.”

  I let out a grunt. “Where were you with that information when I needed it?”

  He dumped Jane’s books out onto the bed. Without cracking a smile, he said, “Sitting in my room trying to work up the courage to call you.” Then he put Jane’s pens and pencils into one pile and her books into another. The notebooks he handed to me. “Paper is valuable. We’ll be able to barter with these at least.” He pulled out a makeup bag, opened it, and shook his head. He tossed it back on the bed along with her cell phone, then walked over to Hunter and took his backpack from him. “Anything in here that could be used to slay a dragon?”

  “Paper. Pens. And my lunch.”

  “Well, at least you’ll have one good meal in the Middle Ages then.” Tristan took the backpack and looked through it anyway. While he did he said, “Savannah, your job tomorrow is to take Hunter and Jane to the market and buy them clothes so they fit in.”

  I said, “It takes days, sometimes weeks, to make clothes.”

  “Buy them off someone’s back if you have to. I’ll be gone all day at the castle. They’ll want me to tell the story of the cyclops over dinner, and besides, I should practice my archery some more. According to everyone at the castle, the only way to kill a dragon is to shoot a poisoned arrow into its throat. It’s a small target, but it’s the only unarmored part. If I miss, the dragon is likely to swoop down and barbecue me.”

  A tremor went through me. I hadn’t really thought about Tristan fighting the dragon. But now that he was planning it, I couldn’t help but picture him standing underneath a monstrous dragon with only a bow and arrow for protection. Little waves of panic spread across my chest.

  Tristan went through the contents of Hunter’s backpack with a shake of his head. “What I really need is a small handheld missile. How come no one carries those in their backpacks anymore?”

  I knew he was joking, but still I said, “Could we make one?”

  Jane and Hunter looked at me with that condescending expression smart people get when they think you’re being an idiot, so I said, “Didn’t the Chinese have rockets in the Middle Ages?” After all, I’d seen the movie Mulan. Hey, for a cartoon character, Shang was hot.

  “They did,” Tristan said. “But I have no idea what sort of fuel they used.”

  “Besides,” Hunter said, “the body of a rocket has to be perfectly cylindrical or it won’t fly straight. The chances of hitting a dragon’s throat are slim.”

  “What about cannons?” I said. “Didn’t they have those in the Middle Ages?”

  Tristan calmly refilled Hunter’s backpack. “They had trebuchets, which worked more like catapults—great for hitting castles, but not so accurate at hitting moving objects.” He looked over at me, and his voice softened as though he appreciated my worry. “Trust me, people here have tried lots of ways to kill dragons—poisoning their food, drugging them. An arrow to the throat is the only thing that’s worked.”

  I went and sat on the bed, just so I could be near him. “That’s because the people here haven’t considered everything. But we’re from the twenty-first century. We know what’s possible.”

  Jane shook her head. “Knowing what’s possible and being able to replicate it are two entirely different things.”

  And so there was Tristan standing alone underneath the dragon again, and no one seemed to be bothered by this except for me. I poked at the blanket on the bed with irritation. “If you’re not going to use your knowledge, then what’s the point of being smart? Anyone could shoot a bow. I could do it.”

  “But you’re not going to,” Tristan said with more forcefulness than he needed. To Hunter he added, “Your job tomorrow is to make sure Savannah stays out of trouble.”

  “Could we feed it explosives?” I asked. “You told me it cooks its food inside its mouth.”

  “They didn’t have explosives in the Middle Ages,” Hunter said.

  “But that doesn’t mean they didn’t have the ingredients,” I said. “What’s dynamite made out of? Or gunpowder?”

  Tristan tilted his head back, his eyes narrowed in concentration. “She’s right. Gunpowder was made from natural components. Fertilizer is one of them and they have plenty of that here. What are the other ingredients?”

  Hunter leaned forward. He snapped his fingers trying to remember. “Saltpeter. The colonials made it during the Revolutionary War. It’s part potassium nitrate and you mix it with something . . .”

  I looked at Jane to see if she knew the answer, but she was turning pages in her history book. “Black powder,” she said. “Developed in China in the ninth century . . . spread to Europe between the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries.”

  Tristan’s brows furrowed with concentration. “But what are the ingredients?”

  Hunter picked up his chemistry book and flipped through the pages. To himself he said, “What reacts with potassium nitrate?”

  Black powder. I never even remembered hearing about it in history class, but I had plenty of practice guessing for tests. “It’s got to be something black,” I said.

  Tristan’s gaze shot over to mine and he smiled. “Charcoal. It’s mixed with charcoal.”

  “And sulfur,” Hunter said. He turned the book around and pointed to a bunch of letters, numbers, and arrows that meant nothing to me but made the other two say, “Ahhh.”

  Now everyone leaned together, making a semicircle around Tristan. “What about the ratios?” Hunter asked.

  “We’ll have to experiment,” Tristan said. “I’ll see how much charcoal and sulfur I can buy from the castle alchemists.”

  “Do we know how to make saltpeter?” Jane asked.

  The guys looked at each other and laughed.

  “What?” I said.

  “That’s the fertilizer part,” Tristan said. “It’s basically what happens when you combine a decaying material and urine. Your basic dung heap.”

  I sat up straighter. “How do you guys know this sort of thing?”

  Tristan shrugged. “You hear it once and you never forget it.”

  “Gross,” I said.

  “Yeah, but you’ll never forget it now,” Tristan said.

  I held up one hand. “For the record, I refuse to be in charge of the saltpeter.”

  Which is how I was put in charge of buying a pig. Tristan figured we could tie bags of black powder to a pig and put it near the dragon’s lair.

  We talked long into the night about who was going to do what, and what supplies we’d have to buy, and the fact that we needed to buy more horses for Hunter and Jane. It grew very late and even the villagers downstairs went home. Then Hunter went to Tristan’s room and Jane stayed in mine. I scooted over so she had room on the bed to sleep.

  I thought it would be awkward being in the room alone with her. We hadn’t really talked, not normally anyway, since Hunter broke up with me, but I fell asleep before she even climbed into bed.

  • • •

  I slept in past sunrise and Jane slept even longer. She didn’t even blink her eyes open as I walked around the room dressing. I put on the first dress I’d brought since my Snow White one had gotten dirty while I’d been dragged around the forest by the cyclops. I gave it to the innkeeper’s wife to wash. Hopefully I’d be able to find something for Jane before she got up.

  I had wanted to see Tristan before he left, but the innkeeper told me he’d gone at first light. I wondered if he’d gotten any sleep at all last night. I hadn’t been able to tell him good-bye, which bothered me more than it should have.

  He’d be gone all morning long, telling his story at the castle and being knighted by the king. At least I knew he wouldn’t be spending much time with Princess Margaret. He wanted to get back to the inn and get things ready as soon as possible so he cou
ld go to the dragon’s lair.

  Celebrating aside, everyone figured it would be best to try and kill the dragon today instead of giving Sir William a chance to exhibit his archery prowess and shoot it first. Or as Jane had put it last night, “Anyone ever heard of William Tell?”

  Sir William had said he was going up to the castle to pay his respects to the king and Princess Margaret today, but after that, it only made sense that he’d go after the dragon. Both he and Tristan needed the reward money that would enable them to challenge the Black Knight.

  I hadn’t said much about the Black Knight to the others last night, but that didn’t mean I hadn’t thought about him. I’d been so frightened when I’d gone to fight the cyclops and the enchantment hadn’t worked. Had the Black Knight already figured out that his enchantment was gone? Did he realize I was the one who had taken it?

  The thought made my insides tighten. What if my dream was right and he and I were meant for each other? Could we be?

  Then I felt horrible for thinking things like that while Tristan was going off risking his life in order to undo the wish I’d made. And he’d nearly kissed me last night, and what’s more, I’d wanted him to.

  So which one of them did I have feelings for—the tall, powerful, mysterious one who was also a fantastic kisser, or the one who’d held me so tenderly last night told me that everything would be okay, and then stood up to Jane for me?

  I bought horses for Jane and Hunter, then went to the tailor to see if he had a dress ready for me. He didn’t, but I was able to buy one of the tailor’s wife’s dresses. It was worn and plain, but at least Jane wouldn’t stand out in her jeans. Getting clothes for Hunter proved harder. He was taller than most of the men in the Middle Ages, which limited the people I could barter with for clothes. I didn’t want to trade with a peasant, or Hunter would spend his entire time in the Middle Ages being treated like a servant.

  Before he left for the castle, I was able to convince Sir William to trade me a pair of leggings and a tunic for my last two necklaces. I knew it was a bad trade, but I was desperate, and besides, it made him less ticked off about Tristan killing the cyclops before he’d had a chance.

  I looked at my dwindling supplies and wondered how much longer we’d be in the Middle Ages. If it was much longer, I’d have to find some more thieves to rob.

  Hunter spent the morning procuring saltpeter. This basically meant he went to all of the dung heaps in the village and scraped off a white, salty-looking layer that had formed on top. The stables proved to be a gold mine for this.

  Jane and I went to the butcher to buy a pig. I ended up feeling sorry for all of them and made Jane choose one. She told me it wouldn’t matter to the pig whether it was eaten by a person or a dragon—and besides, it was hypocritical to feel sorry for the pig when bacon was one of my favorite foods. But I still made her do it.

  She chose the biggest one. It looked like it weighed as much as I did, had a torn ear, beady eyes, and a nasty disposition. I called him Mr. Ogden, after my geometry teacher.

  Tristan came home at lunchtime, and then he and Hunter went out behind the inn and tried different ratios of saltpeter to charcoal to sulfur to see what exploded the best. They came inside not much later—their faces black with soot and their eyebrows singed—and told us that a ratio of 6 to 1 to 1worked out very well.

  It was midafternoon when Tristan and Hunter loaded Mr. Ogden onto a cart. It was odd to watch Tristan and Hunter getting the horses ready, working together. One was the guy I’d kissed about a month ago, and the other was the guy who I’d nearly kissed last night. I couldn’t help but compare them. True, Hunter was taller and had broader shoulders, but watching him no longer made my heart flutter around in my rib cage. Instead I found my gaze being drawn to Tristan. There was just something endearing about Tristan’s shaggy blond hair and light blue eyes. Maybe it was because he’d never cheated on me. Everything with him was a sky full of possibilities. Besides, I liked his dry sense of humor and the way he was so protective of me. He kept telling me over and over that I was to stay at the inn—as though he was sure I would insist on coming with him to the dragon’s lair.

  I did insist, but only once.

  “You might need help along the way,” I told him.

  He looked at me, his eyes firm. “That’s why I’m taking Hunter with me. You’re staying at the inn until we come back.” He mounted his horse and took hold of the reins. “It’s only a ten-mile ride to the lair. If all goes well, we’ll be back by nightfall. Then we’ll be able to rest for an entire day before we go up to the castle for King Roderick’s celebration tomorrow night.”

  Everyone of importance in the kingdom was going to be there. Everyone in town who could walk or ride would go up for it. Tristan was convinced the Black Knight would show up there and he wanted to be ready to face him.

  Now I watched Tristan put a bag of black powder in his own saddlebag and another in Hunter’s. His tanned hands moved so confidently. His perfect profile showed his determination.

  I looked at the saddlebags and then at the pig. “But what if things don’t go as planned with the dragon?”

  Tristan smiled at me as he mounted his horse. “Then you can find another date to prom. I’ll understand.”

  I should have smiled back at him, but I couldn’t bring myself to. A knot of worry wound around my insides, pulling tight.

  Hunter stood by his horse, but before mounting it he gave Jane a hug. She buried her face in his shoulder and he kissed the top of her head.

  Momentarily I was stung with their betrayal all over again. They were so easy about hugging each other. How often had they done it while Hunter was dating me?

  I pulled my gaze away from them and noticed Tristan watching me, his eyes serious, evaluating.

  I blushed and wasn’t sure why. “Be careful,” I said. Part of me wished I had hugged Tristan, but it would have been awkward beforehand and was impossible now. We hadn’t been alone at all since he’d tried to kiss me, and it felt like both of us were waiting for an answer to a question that hadn’t been asked yet.

  Hunter mounted his horse with more ease than I’d expected and the two of them rode off, with Mr. Ogden bouncing in the cart behind Tristan.

  Chapter 21

  Jane and I wandered around the village killing time. We hardly talked at all, but I could tell by the way she had to stay in constant motion—tapping her foot, fiddling with her dress—that her thoughts were circling around Hunter. I knew it was hard for her to keep all that anxiety inside. She wasn’t talking about him because she thought it would be painful for me to hear about her feelings for him.

  After two hours had gone by, a lot of the villagers crawled up on their roofs in hopes of seeing the dragon in the distant sky.

  Tristan had explained the way of dragons to us before he’d left. Dragons were slow moving and awkward while walking because their wings and tails dragged on the ground—thus the name, dragons. That’s why they always stayed put in their lairs unless they were hunting or frightened. If startled, they took to the air at once, where they had the advantage of height and speed at their command.

  So when Tristan and Hunter got close enough to the dragon’s lair that it could smell the pig, we should be able to see the shape of the dragon take off into the sky.

  As the villagers climbed the inn’s roof, I heard tidbits of conversation, people discussing Tristan’s odds of success like it was a football match.

  “The bloke’s no archer. He hasn’t a chance.”

  “I hear he has magic. Something to do with a pig.”

  “Pig magic? Can’t be powerful. I reckon he’ll be dead before we can toast his victory over the cyclops on the morrow.”

  All of it made my stomach turn. Still, I wanted to see the events for myself. I’d rather see it firsthand than have to ask the villagers what they’d seen. I left the inn and headed for the church. It had the highest roof and was the only one in the village that wasn’t thatch.

  So
meone had pushed a ladder against the side, and several people—including the priest—were already on top.

  Jane followed me up, all the while telling me that we shouldn’t be up here because there were no building codes in the Middle Ages and the roof was likely to collapse. Luckily, I’d had practice ignoring her.

  I took a seat next to the priest. He was reciting something in Latin; I hoped it was a prayer for Tristan. I pressed my arms around my knees and stared in the same direction that everyone else was looking. Jane sat next to me. We didn’t talk.

  The sun kept creeping across the sky. Certainly it had been long enough, hadn’t it? The villagers had stopped their noisy chatter and were looking above the tree line in earnest. Now their predictions were given in hushed tones, perhaps out of respect for us. “Did misfortune befall them before they reached the lair?” one asked. “Perhaps they’ve turned back,” another said.

  “Or the dragon killed them without ever having to take flight.”

  Jane looked dully at the horizon. Her voice was no more than a whisper. “This is my fault.”

  I turned to her, surprised. “Your fault?”

  “If I hadn’t taken Hunter away from you, then you wouldn’t have wished for a prince to take you to prom. You’d be going with him and he’d still be alive.” She looked blankly at the sky, the spirit drained from her.

  “He’s still alive,” I said.

  She shook her head. “We haven’t seen the dragon take flight. That means it was never frightened. He didn’t . . . I shouldn’t have . . .” She let out a ragged moan. “I made Hunter come here.”

  I took her hand, trying to keep her worry from spinning out of control. “Tristan has been living here for eight months. He knows how to take care of himself. He won’t let anything happen to Hunter.”

  She squeezed my hand. Her breathing came in labored spurts. “You really think so?”

  “If we never see the dragon in the sky, it only means they thought of a way to kill it before it took flight. They’re probably already on their way home and they’ll laugh once they see us all up here on the roofs.” I glanced down at the ground. “Or they’ll yell at us because they didn’t have building codes in the Middle Ages and sitting up here is dangerous.”