Free Golden by Cameron Dokey Page A

be?” I asked. “Who has the power to curse a sorceress?”
    â€œThe answer to that is simple,” the sorceress herself replied. “One whose power is greater than mine. In this case, it was a wizard, and for this reason: He had witnessed me doing a thing that I should not have done. Once, a very long time ago now, I committed an act of unkindness.”
    â€œBut,” I said, then stopped short. Who was I to question the actions of a wizard, after all? But Melisande seemed to understand what my objection might have been, had I decided to say it aloud.
    â€œTrue enough,” she acknowledged. “Acts of unkindness happen every day, some intentional, others not. Mine was of the second variety, not that it made any difference in the long run.”
    â€œI’m not sure I understand,” I said.
    â€œThat is not surprising,” Melisande answered. “For it has taken many years for me to understand it myself.”
    She fell silent for a moment, gazing into the fire, then lifted her eyes to mine. When she did, I got a jolt. For it seemed to me that, just as I had done with the tinker on that day so long ago now, I caught a glimpse into the sorceress’s heart. In it I thought I recognized myself. But behind me, moving closer even as I watched, was the person Melisande had asked to step aside. Though for many years we had not discussed how I had first come to live with her, I had never forgotten her words:
I made room for you inside my heart.
    It is another girl,
I realized. Just as I thought she might come close enough for me to see her features, Melisande spoke again, and the vision vanished.
    â€œI have wanted to tell you this story many times, Rapunzel,” she said. “Even more, I have known that I must. But every time I wondered if the time was right, my heart counseled me to wait, and I listened to its voice. For that is supposed to be my gift, is it not? To see what is in the heart?”
    â€œIn another’s heart, yes,” I answered without thinking, for my head was still full of what I believed I had seen, trying to figure it out. Mr. Jones shifted position suddenly, as if he would have answered differently if the question had been put to him. But the sorceress simply nodded.
    â€œThat is a just response. To see into another’sheart is one thing. To see into ones own heart may require a different power entirely. I’m still not entirely certain its one that I possess.”
    And so the sorceress told us her story.

Nine
    â€œMany
years ago,” Melisande said, “long before you were born, Rapunzel, the world was less afraid of magic than it is now. As a result, magic itself was more powerful. In this, I suppose it could be said that it was like a radish in our garden.”
    â€œBetter that than a carrot,” I said, and heard both the tinker and the sorceress chuckle. And with that, I felt the tension around our fire ease, as if, now that the story had at last commenced, we all understood we would stick with it till the close. What might happen then was anyone’s guess, but for now, we would all be united in the telling and hearing of it.
    â€œThough it could be any plant,” I went on, “assuming that I’ve grasped your point. If you give a plant room, it will grow and flourish. But if you crowd it, you may choke it out.”
    â€œThat is indeed my point,” Melisande agreed. “Not that magic has died out entirely in these days. But fear is strong. Fear of what is different, of what cannot easily be explained, particularly explained away. We’ve had proof enough of that recently, I think, you and I.”
    â€œBut this is not a story of these days,” I said.
    â€œNo,” Melisande agreed. “Or at least, the start of it is not, for this story is still ongoing. It has not yet come to its conclusion, though I hope that the day for that is not far off. It is a cautionary tale, one that shows how,