door.
Balkis couldn't believe her ears. Had the man no fear for his son, no care? Anthony was beaten and hurting, and could die for all he knew. Did he not love his son?
The answer came unbidden: of course he loved Anthony— but he loved his authority, too.
She dashed between the walls, frantic with fear for her friend. She squeezed between the boards to run cat-foot around the house to where Anthony lay groaning in the snow. Fear shot through her, for she saw the snow stained with blood by his mouth. How could his older siblings have been so villainous?
But as she crouched beside him, she felt helpless, at a loss. What could a cat do for a grown man?
She would have to become human again, of course. There was little enough to fear from his brothers—they were inside, crowing about their victory and laughing at one another's insults to Anthony—and toasting their success with ale, no doubt. Anger spurred Balkis, and the barnyard swam about her, everything becoming smaller as she grew into a woman. Then she was kneeling over an Anthony dramatically smaller than he had seemed. He was curled around the pain in hisbelly, groaning, and Balkis felt panic. Luckily the kidnapper had wrapped her in her own cloak when he stole her from the palace, and she whipped it off to drape around Anthony now. She shivered as the wind bit into her, but her gown was made of wool and would keep her long enough to reach the barn. “There, now,” she said, “that should keep you warm a little while. Come, rise, for I cannot carry you, and we must get you into the shelter of the barn as quickly as we can!”
Anthony looked up at the sound of a strange human voice— then, pain or not, he stiffened and caught his breath, staring at her.
In her mind, Balkis cursed impatiently. Was a woman so strange a sight as that?
Yes. To a boy raised with only a father and four brothers, she was a very strange sight indeed.
Well, he would have to get used to it. Balkis bent low, tucking the cape beneath him and lugging at him. “Come, on your feet! Surely they have not crippled you!”
But Anthony only stared at her, wide-eyed and awed, and asked, “Who… who are you?”
“My name is Balkis, and I am come to keep you from freezing to death! Will you not rise?”
This time, Anthony allowed himself to be chivied into standing, but as soon as he did, one knee buckled. Balkis stepped in so he leaned on her shoulder, and he was heavy, very heavy. He blinked, staring down at her, and there was still awe and reverence in his eyes as he asked, “How did you come here?”
“On my own four feet, of course,” Balkis snapped. Then honesty compelled her to add, “With some help from the Wee Folk, that is.”
“Wee Folk?” Anthony managed to lift his weight off her, his stare turning into superstitious fear. “But surely I would have seen you, surely one of us would have seen you!” Then he frowned. “But how can you have four feet?”
“When I turn into a cat,” Balkis said, exasperated, and pulled him toward the barn. “Come, if you can stand, surely you can walk.”
Anthony tried, but he stumbled, and she had to prop him upagain. He stared at her in wonder. “Turn into a cat? No one can turn into a cat!”
“Oh, stand on your own two feet!” Balkis said.
He managed it, and she thought of his calf being at the height of her head, thought of the house as being a vast, towering structure, thought of the snow as brushing her belly—and sure enough, everything swelled into gigantic proportions as she felt her gown wrapping tightly about her, turning into fur.
Anthony cried out and stumbled away, then managed to stop, tottering.
Balkis turned back into a human faster than she ever had and ran to prop him up. “You helped me when I needed to recover,” she said, “helped me with friendship and sweet milk. Now let me return the favor. Come to the barn.”
Anthony hobbled with her, staring down, caught between superstition, awe, and some
Balkis couldn't believe her ears. Had the man no fear for his son, no care? Anthony was beaten and hurting, and could die for all he knew. Did he not love his son?
The answer came unbidden: of course he loved Anthony— but he loved his authority, too.
She dashed between the walls, frantic with fear for her friend. She squeezed between the boards to run cat-foot around the house to where Anthony lay groaning in the snow. Fear shot through her, for she saw the snow stained with blood by his mouth. How could his older siblings have been so villainous?
But as she crouched beside him, she felt helpless, at a loss. What could a cat do for a grown man?
She would have to become human again, of course. There was little enough to fear from his brothers—they were inside, crowing about their victory and laughing at one another's insults to Anthony—and toasting their success with ale, no doubt. Anger spurred Balkis, and the barnyard swam about her, everything becoming smaller as she grew into a woman. Then she was kneeling over an Anthony dramatically smaller than he had seemed. He was curled around the pain in hisbelly, groaning, and Balkis felt panic. Luckily the kidnapper had wrapped her in her own cloak when he stole her from the palace, and she whipped it off to drape around Anthony now. She shivered as the wind bit into her, but her gown was made of wool and would keep her long enough to reach the barn. “There, now,” she said, “that should keep you warm a little while. Come, rise, for I cannot carry you, and we must get you into the shelter of the barn as quickly as we can!”
Anthony looked up at the sound of a strange human voice— then, pain or not, he stiffened and caught his breath, staring at her.
In her mind, Balkis cursed impatiently. Was a woman so strange a sight as that?
Yes. To a boy raised with only a father and four brothers, she was a very strange sight indeed.
Well, he would have to get used to it. Balkis bent low, tucking the cape beneath him and lugging at him. “Come, on your feet! Surely they have not crippled you!”
But Anthony only stared at her, wide-eyed and awed, and asked, “Who… who are you?”
“My name is Balkis, and I am come to keep you from freezing to death! Will you not rise?”
This time, Anthony allowed himself to be chivied into standing, but as soon as he did, one knee buckled. Balkis stepped in so he leaned on her shoulder, and he was heavy, very heavy. He blinked, staring down at her, and there was still awe and reverence in his eyes as he asked, “How did you come here?”
“On my own four feet, of course,” Balkis snapped. Then honesty compelled her to add, “With some help from the Wee Folk, that is.”
“Wee Folk?” Anthony managed to lift his weight off her, his stare turning into superstitious fear. “But surely I would have seen you, surely one of us would have seen you!” Then he frowned. “But how can you have four feet?”
“When I turn into a cat,” Balkis said, exasperated, and pulled him toward the barn. “Come, if you can stand, surely you can walk.”
Anthony tried, but he stumbled, and she had to prop him upagain. He stared at her in wonder. “Turn into a cat? No one can turn into a cat!”
“Oh, stand on your own two feet!” Balkis said.
He managed it, and she thought of his calf being at the height of her head, thought of the house as being a vast, towering structure, thought of the snow as brushing her belly—and sure enough, everything swelled into gigantic proportions as she felt her gown wrapping tightly about her, turning into fur.
Anthony cried out and stumbled away, then managed to stop, tottering.
Balkis turned back into a human faster than she ever had and ran to prop him up. “You helped me when I needed to recover,” she said, “helped me with friendship and sweet milk. Now let me return the favor. Come to the barn.”
Anthony hobbled with her, staring down, caught between superstition, awe, and some
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