Free A Well-Timed Enchantment by Vivian Vande Velde Page B

appropriately enough, by the pigpen. He was sitting on the railing, his feet up as though he were on a chaise lounge. The pigs were settling down for the night while he blew onto a blade of grass in his cupped hands. The resulting sound was music, soft and fluttery. The resulting sound was, in fact, a lullaby.
    One of the pigs grunted, and—as though it had announced their approach—the dusty little man looked over his shoulder and saw them. Immediately he was down from the railing, and the shapeless cap was off his head. "Miss," he mumbled.
    Deanna curtsied, because she had curtsied every other time and it seemed rude to stop now. "Sir," she said, "the wizard Algernon has something—"
    The pigman hit himself on the side of the head with his cap, causing enough dust to make Deanna cough. "I knew it," he cried. "I knew it wor yours."
    "I beg your pardon?"
    "That thing. That silver and leather thing what Octavia found."
    Deanna glanced at Oliver and couldn't tell what he was thinking. "Octavia?" she repeated. "Who's Octavia?"
    "Octavia. The porker what you ate tonight."
    Deanna gulped, never having been on a first-name basis with her supper before.
    "Where did Octavia find it?" Oliver asked, less sentimental about such things and therefore more practical.
    "Well, I like to take the pigs out to the forest sometimes. Give 'em a chance to forage. Something different Anyway, there's this pool there. Said to be enchanted, but I never seen anything enchanted there. This morning I brung the pigs there and Octavia, she just stuck her snout into the edge of the water and pulled that thing up outta the mud and shook it like this." He made a motion like a dog worrying a slipper. "That wor right before you come, miss. I kept trying to ask, but never seemed to get the chance."
    Guiltily, Deanna remembered holding her breath and ignoring him. "So how did Algernon get it from you?"
    "I give it to him, miss. Just now."
    "You gave it to him?" But then she thought back to the courtyard, how the wizard's eyes had gotten all whirly and her free will had seemed to melt away. She would have given the watch to Algernon too, under those circumstances, and never have thought to miss it.
    "Did I do something wrong, miss?" the pigman asked. "I'm terrible sorry if I did. Terrible sorry."
    "That's all right," she said, more to make him feel better than because she really believed it. "I'll get it back."
    "Yes, miss. He'll give it to you, miss, if you explain it be yorn."
    She sighed but didn't argue. "Thank you. Come on, Oliver."
    "Miss," the pigman called after them. "I hope you get your magic back."
    She was about to call back that she didn't have any magic and never had, but decided that was something she probably shouldn't yell across the courtyard.
    No telling who might hear.

ELEVEN
Plans
    "Oliver, what are we going to do?" Deanna asked as they walked back toward the castle.
    Oliver shook his head, with his best don't-ask-me-you're-in-charge look. "I'll do whatever you want me to do," he said.
    She had no answer for him either.
    They rounded a corner and saw Leonard standing on the lawn, facing the castle. And singing. He had accompaniment: bored-looking servants playing lute, harp, cymbals, and something that looked like a clarinet but sounded like the moan of a humpback whale. He sang, loudly and
off-key: "My love is like a cold, cold frost ... But when I die, she will feel lost..."
    A dog started to bark, then another, then several. A rooster crowed. Those servants who had to be up earliest and so went to bed earliest banged on the shutters and yelled for quiet. Leonard got louder, to be heard over the racket, and gazed up at what had to be Deanna's bedroom window with a sick-puppy expression.
    Her legs got quivery and she sat down heavily on the ground.
    "Deanna?" Oliver sounded worried. He crouched down beside her, but she didn't want to look at him. She crossed her legs Indian style and hunched over in the evening gloom, her arms hugged