Golden (13 page)

I cannot tell you what was said at the second parting between the sorceress and her daughter. It hardly seemed right for me to overhear it, so I went back out of that great golden room the same way I'd come, then walked around the tower's top until I could see the river and Mr. Jones, both far below me. I stood for a moment with my hands on the railing, as he looked up, and I looked down.

“You are going to stay, then,” he said, his voice reaching me easily.

“I am,” I said. “Though not for long, assuming all goes well. I'm to free the sorceress's daughter in the same time it took to make her a prisoner: two nights, the day that falls between, and the blink of an eye. How did you know? That I would stay, I mean.”

“I didn't,” the tinker answered. “I only thought you might.”

“It's that heart thing again, isn't it?” I said, and, to my relief, we both smiled.

“Something like that,” the tinker agreed. “Have you thought about what you'll tell Harry? He's going to want some sort of explanation, you know.”

I felt the tower sway beneath my feet then, though my head knew it hadn't moved at all. Harry. I'd forgotten all about Harry. Again.

“No, I can see that you haven't,” said Mr. Jones.

“I didn't mean ... I never thought...,” I said.

“Take a deep breath,” Mr. Jones said. “Stay calm. I'm sure you'll think of something when the time comes. You seem to have done all right so far.”

“Where will you go? What will you do?” I asked. For, now that my brain was thinking beyond the tower, it seemed to me unlikely that the tinker and the sorceress would simply sit at its base and gaze upward for seventy-two hours, no matter how much Melisande might want to.

“I have traveled in this land a little,” Mr. Jones said. “There is a town about a day's journey through the forest, the seat of the king who rules these parts. That's as good a place to go as any.”

“What of Melisande?”

“You'd better ask her that yourself,” the tinker said. At this, I turned to discover the sorceress standing by my side.

“Ask me what?” said Melisande.

“I was wondering whether or not you'd go with him,” I said. “He's going to the closest town. I think I'd feel better knowing the two of you were together.”

“Are you asking me to do this?” Melisande said, and I thought I could see the barest hint of a twinkle at the back of her eyes.

One good question deserves another,
I thought.

“Yes, I am asking you to do this,” I said. “For my sake, will you please stay with Mr. Jones?”

“Gladly,” Melisande replied. “For your sake, as well as my own.”

With that, before I quite realized what she intended, she reached out and enfolded me in her arms. A thousand memories seemed to rush through me, as if summoned of their own accord.

The sorceress and I sitting before the fire on a winter's night as she patiently taught my fumbling fingers to knit. Standing in the kitchen on a hot summer's day, laughing as we realized that every single one of our mutual twenty fingers was stained the exact same color from picking blueberries the whole morning long. I remembered lying in my bed at night when I was supposed to be asleep, gazing instead at where Melisande sat brushing out her hair. Wondering if I would ever have hair of my own, knowing she would love me just the same even if I never did.

She loves me,
I thought. Against all odds, and in the face of her own pain, she had made room for me inside her heart. Now the time had come for me to return the favor for her daughter, if I could.

“Thank you,” she whispered, and she stepped back and let me go.

“Don't thank me yet,” I answered. “I haven't done very much.”

She raised her eyebrows at this. “You think not?”

“I'll do what I can,” I said.

“That's all that can be asked of anyone,” she replied.

With that, almost as if she was moving quickly before either of us could change our minds, the sorceress spoke the password once more.

“One so fair, let down your hair. Let me go from here to there.”

No sooner had she spoken than the pane of glass behind us flew open and Rue's great golden braid came flying out. Once, twice it wrapped itself around the railing, just as it had before, them plum-meted down to land beside the tinker with a
plunk.
Melisande gave me a final kiss, then, without another word, climbed down. As soon as her feet touched the greensward, the braid ascended,
whooshing
out of sight, and the pane of glass closed silently behind it.

“We'll see you in a couple of days,” Mr. Jones called up. “When Harry finally gets here, tell him we've gone on to the town. He can follow if he wants to. He can't get lost. All he has to do is keep to the main road.”

“I'll do that,” I said. “Assuming he speaks to me at all.”

“Oh, he'll speak to you,” the tinker answered. “I have a feeling you can count on that.”

Then he helped Melisande into the wagon and clucked once to the horse. I stood at the railing, waving until they were out of sight and then some. Finally I turned around. The great bank of windows
at the tower's top showed me nothing but my own reflection, with the sky at my back.

Was Rue on the other side of the closest one? I wondered. Had she watched me say farewell to her mother?

Stop it, Rapunzel,
I chastised myself.
If you start off thinking of this as a competition, the whole exercise will be nothing but a waste of time.

Time, the one thing I could not afford to waste. Holding that fact firmly in my mind, I crossed the stone balcony, whose width was fifteen paces but felt like a hundred, and went back inside.

Rue had remained sitting right where I'd left her, at the top of the steps with Mr. Jones in her lap. She was teasing the cat with the end of that long, long braid.

“Does it hurt?” I asked suddenly. “When people go up and down?”

“No,” she answered, with a quick shake of her head. “I don't feel it at all. I don't think I feel much of anything, to tell you the truth.”

I was silent for a moment, taking this in. “Maybe it's just a side effect of all this wizardry,” I suggested. “Something that will wear off.”

“I'm not so sure I want it to,” Rue answered, with an honesty that would have made her mother proud. “It's safer not to feel anything, don't you think? Besides, I'm used to it by now.”

I thought of the life to which I'd been accustomed,
just one short week ago. Having it all yanked away so abrupedy had definitely been painful. In spite of the fact that I felt I could almost see time racing by me, I decided to go slowly now.

“It may have to wear off, sooner or later,” I suggested gently. “The curse does say something about awakening your heart.”

“Oh, so now you're the expert?” she asked, her tone ever so slightly sarcastic. “What makes you think you know anything about it? You're not the one who's been stuck up here for time out of mind.”

Okay,
I thought.
So much for going slow.
If this was the way things were going to be, might as well throw myself off the tower right this second and be done with it. Better yet, I'd throw her off.

“For someone who claims she doesn't feel anything, you're awfully quick to pick a fight. “I remarked.

“Am not.”

“Are too.”

Rue gave a sudden snort and looked up then, her violet eyes laughing. “I suppose you think you're pretty smart.”

“No, I don't,” I said. “If I was smart, we'd both be out of here by now.”

I could have kicked myself as I saw the laughter drain away as if I'd poked a hole in a bucket full of water.

“I wouldn't worry about it very much if I were you,” she said. “We both know I'm never getting out of here anyhow.”

“We do not know that,” I answered, stung. “Why is there nothing to sit on in this stupid place?”

At this, the smile returned, though it wasn't a very cheerful one. “There's a stool at the loom,” she said. “You could try that.”

I fetched it and placed it where I could sit facing her.

“We are going to do this,” I said firmly. “We're going to figure out the way to get you out. Putting you here was wrong and cruel. It should never have happened in the first place.”

I could feel her resistance start to waver, even as I watched her shore it up. I was familiar with the sensation.

“If you say so,” she replied.

“There you are, doing it again,” I cried. I got to my feet, in spite of the fact that I'd just finished sitting down. “Acting as if you're the only one who's ever had to face a problem. I've got news for you: You're not. What's the matter? Are you so afraid you'll fail that you'd prefer not to try at all?”

Oh, right, Rapunzel,
I thought, even as I heard myself speak.
As if the thought hadn't crossed your mind.

“Of course not,” Rue answered, her cheeks coloring. “It's just . . .” She swallowed then, a convulsive motion of her throat, and I realized how close she was to tears. “I've been in this tower for as long as I can remember. I'm afraid to ask
how
long. What if I can't remember how to live like other people? What
if I'm broken and can't be fixed? What if I . . . you know.”

“I don't,” I said, which was the absolute truth.

“Love,” she said loudly, causing Mr. Jones to give a startled and indignant meow. “What if I can't fall in love?”

“Of course you can fall in love,” I said.

“You don't know that,” she countered.

“Okay,” I said, as I sank slowly back down upon the stool. “All right. Officially, maybe I don't. But you said you wanted to learn to love Mr. Jones. I'd say that's a good sign.”

“It doesn't matter,” Rue said quickly. “Nobody's ever going to want me anyhow.”

“What are you talking about?” I asked.

“Look at me,” she cried out. “Look.
Look.
Use your eyes!”

“Let me tell you what I see,” I said. “You have skin as fine as any angel cake I ever baked. Your eyes are a color poets dream of writing about, and your hair is as golden and bountiful as a dragon's hoard. You may see these things as posing a problem, but believe me, you'll be the only one who does.”

“You think
this
is beautiful?” Rue said. She shot to her own feet now, seizing her long, golden braid with both hands and shaking it as if it were a snake that she would like to choke the life right out of. Mr. Jones leaped from her lap in alarm and disappeared out of sight down the great curved staircase.

“You try living with it for a while. I trip over it
when I walk. Get tangled up in it when I sleep. I can't cut it—the wizard took care of that. My own mother has to climb my hair just to come and visit. If this doesn't make me a freak, I don't know what does.”

“At least you have some,” I said.

“Have what?”

“Hair,” I replied.

At this, all the fight seemed to drain right out of her. She rubbed a hand across her brow.

“I don't understand a word you're saying,” she said.

I reached up for my kerchief, pulled it off.

“Oh,” Rue said, and her mouth made the exact same shape in surprise. Slowly she sank back down to the floor. “Oh, my.”

“That's one way of putting it,” I said. In that moment, I realized how tired I was. “How about this,” I proposed. “Let's both avoid the word ‘freak,' shall we?””

“Good. That sounds good,” Rue nodded. She fell silent for a moment as we gazed at one another. “I suppose I can see now why Mama thought this might work,” she finally remarked. “There is a certain symmetry involved. Does it hurt?” she asked, her question the exact same as my own just minutes ago.

“No,” I said. “Not unless I get clumsy and run it into something hard and unyielding.”
Sort of like you,
I thought. I put the kerchief back on.

“This really might work,” Rue said cautiously
after another moment. “Given the actual circumstances, I mean.”

“I suppose,” I said. “It might.”

“Not that it means we always have to get along.”

“Thanks goodness for that,” I said.

She gave a snort. “Naturally you would agree with that.”

“Perhaps I haven't any sense,” I said. “Maybe it goes along with not having any hair.”

“Oh, I know you haven't any sense,” Rue replied. “If you had, you'd have climbed down all this unnecessary hair at the first available opportunity.”

“I couldn't do that,” I said. “I made a promise.”

“To my mother, you mean.”

“No,” I said. “To myself.”

We were both silent once more, while this thought slowly circled inside the tower, then came back to rest between us.

“Can you really make an angel cake?” Rue asked.

I nodded. “As tall as the oven door. I'll bake one for you on your wedding day. How would that be?”

She smiled then, a neither-here-nor-there sort of smile. Not quite joyful, but not sad, either. A smile that left the future open.

“I think that I would like that. Thank you, Rapunzel.”

Before either of us could say another word, a new voice floated up the length of the tower.

“Parsley,” it shouted. “What in heaven's name have you done?”

Thirteen