Free Rough Magic by Caryl Cude Mullin Page A

Prospero’s son-in-law, was to take control of the dukedom. Prospero’s dream of returning to civil life and taking up the reins of Milan’s government had been a false vision. He was no better suited to mundane reality then he had ever been. Less so, after his long years on an island where he had lived by magic. Just seven months after his return, he began to disappear into his library for longer periods every day. At first it seemed that he tried to fight his own interests. But once he began the work of alchemy, he abdicated completely and sent for his son-in-law to replace him as duke.
    The clatter of wheels on gravel grew louder. In another moment the carriage came around the corner of the drive and into view. There was a small escort of ten riders with it. That surprised Caliban. He’d been expecting a whole entourage.
    The carriage drew up and servants sprang to work, opening the door and lowering the steps.
    Ferdinand stepped down first, then turned to help his wife. Caliban felt his heart constrict. It had been nearly five years since he’d seen Miranda last, and in that time she had grown regal. No one but Caliban could imagine this tall, beautiful, stately person running barefoot and in patched clothes through the wilderness. But the smile and the warm greeting she offered her father were the same as ever.
    Caliban lowered his gaze to avoid meeting hers. That was how he came to look straight into the pale, thin face of the three-year-old princess. Her hair hung in thick, lank braids on either side of her head. Her hazel eyes were large and fringed with impossibly thick lashes, making her appear not quite human. They stared at each other for a long moment. She was curious, fearless. And then she smiled at him, in her funny crooked way, a small dimple sinking into her left cheek.
    No one had ever smiled at him on first sight. Caliban didn’t move, afraid that he’d break the spell. The child was turned from him and introduced to her grandfather. “This is Chiara, of course,” Miranda said. The little girl dipped a curtsey, her smile replaced with a solemn expression. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Grandfather,” she said to Prospero. She sounded sincere, like the formal words were her own and not a rehearsed speech.
    Prospero knelt down and took her chin between his thumb and forefinger. “Let me look at you properly,” he said. The child waited, looking back at him calmly. “You’ll do very well,” he said at last. “Will you come and visit me each day?”
    Chiara looked to her mother, who nodded. “Yes, I will, Grandfather,” she said. “Will you read me stories?”
    â€œOf course,” Prospero replied. Then he patted the child’s head and stood up. Caliban could feel the impatience returning to Prospero. He had been reading about salamanders when he was summoned to meet his daughter and the new duke, and Caliban knew how anxious he was to get back to the library.
    State affairs never happen quickly. It took days before matters were settled enough for Prospero to retire back to his studies. During that time Caliban was kept busy gathering supplies for the upcoming work. Caliban was not sorry to be outdoors. He didn’t like the uproar of the palace. The entourage had arrived, and the whole place was crawling with servants, both new and old, scurrying about with their arms full of clothes and curtains and dishes and papers.
    So Caliban dawdled with his errands. On the fourth day after the new duke’s arrival he was sitting in his favorite sunny spot in the kitchen garden, surrounded by the heady smell of herbs. He needed to gather more fennel, but he was in no hurry. Prospero believed the herb heightened his ability to think, so Caliban was forever brewing teas with it, and strewing it around the workroom floor. He didn’t mind. He liked the herb himself. For a while he’d been trying to make a liquor out