“
In the morning, as good as his word, Halim brought out his implements for breaking curses.
“Tell me at once if this hurts,” he said anxiously.
Toadling shook her head, bemused at him for his eagerness, and at herself for not running away. “All right,” she said. “If this will make you happy.”
It could not be said that it went well, but neither did it go badly. She sat patiently while he sprinkled holy water on her, and lit candles in a circle, and recited verses from the Quran, none of which did anything.
“Oh dear,” said Halim. “I suppose I should try the Christian prayer to be thorough, but I suspect that my mother wouldn’t appreciate it. And I don’t know if that’s blasphemy or not, and it’s probably bad form to blaspheme while you’re breaking a curse.”
“I’ll do it,” said Toadling, and launched into the Lord’s Prayer. “Our Father, who art in heaven…”
The words twisted around in her throat, as her fairy gift tried to recast them in modern tongue. She had learned the prayer two hundred years ago to please the priest, and the words on her heart were different than the ones on her tongue.
Halim waited politely, but nothing happened.
“Next?” said Toadling.
“I’m supposed to hurl this mixture of moly and salt in your face,” he said doubtfully. “But that seems quite hostile.”
“Do it.” She closed her eyes. She felt an absurd smile on her face and couldn’t quite stop it.
He still could not bring himself to hurl the mixture. She felt salt and herbs patter gently on her cheek. It did exactly nothing.
“Last one,” said Halim. “Um. I’m supposed to nick you with the blessed knife.”
She held out her hand.
He looked from the knife to her, back to the knife. She was surprised to see he’d gone a little green.
“Aren’t you a knight?” she asked. “Haven’t you stabbed people before?”
“Very few,” he said. “And they were all trying to stab me first.”
She laughed and took the knife from him.
It was not hard. Master Gourami’s spells had often involved a drop of blood to bind them. She prodded the ball of her thumb with the tip and felt the skin part.
Cold steel was never kind to fairies, but those born human were safe enough. Her blood was darker and thinner than Halim’s would be, and she suspected that the cut would itch for a few days, but that was all.
She flipped the knife around and offered him the hilt.
“Is the curse broken?” he asked.
“There really isn’t one,” she said. “not on me.”
He sighed. “I suppose I’ll have to climb the tower, then.
”
”
T. Kingfisher (Thornhedge)