Orson Card - Enchantment

Esther watched them setting up the picnic—laying out a couple of blankets on the grass, setting out plates and glasses, pulling food out of the hamper Ruthie had brought.

Things Ruthie brought. There were charms to protect from the food, but was it possible she carried some living thing with her? What if Baba Yaga found out about Ruthie? If she did, she would try to use her.

What Esther sensed was an intruder. Smaller than a human being, but with some fragment of human spirit within it. An observer. An agent.

A familiar.

How? She had charms and spells enough to keep any familiar from gaining entry by itself. It would have to be carried in, close to the body of a human being who had trusted access. But it would also have to be a creature of high enough function to be useful to the witch who controlled it. A flea or louse would hardly be useful, however appropriate such a creature would be as Baba Yaga's familiar.

She could not ignore this. She had to find the familiar and eliminate the threat. She rinsed her hands at the sink.

The back door opened. Katerina came inside.

Esther looked at her in shock. "You left them alone together?"

"She 'forgot' the salt," said Katerina. "Which suggests that she has a love potion."

Esther rolled her eyes. "She couldn't get him into bed with her before he married you, so now she wants to do it with a potion."

"They... never?" asked Katerina.

"He's a strange boy," said Esther. "I thought you knew."

By now Katerina had the salt. "Well, time for a little seasoning."

"Watch for a familiar," said Esther.

Katerina turned, looking much more serious now. "What kind?"

"Small," said Esther. "Brought in by someone who is not an enemy."

Ivan raised his eyebrows at Ruthie. "Well, she's gone now. What did you want to say?"

Ruthie looked flustered. "Ivan, I could have said whatever secrets I might have over the phone. I'm sorry you're so suspicious. I simply forgot the salt."

"Sorry," said Ivan. "Here are the jars, all duly opened."

Father came over from the shed, where he had been putting away the lawn mower and hedge trimmer. "How are you doing? Where's Katerina?"

"She's inside getting the salt," said Ivan. "And we're having fun. I'm glad Ruthie invited us to do this."

Piotr smiled cheerfully at them and headed for the house.

"Ivan, would you taste the chicken and tell me if it's all right?" asked Ruthie. "I made them myself from my mother's recipe, and they don't look exactly the same as hers."

"They look the same to me," said Ivan. "Which means it should be great." Ruthie's mother was locally famous for her chicken, and not just among the Jews. Ivan reached down and picked up the large piece of chicken breast that she had put on his plate.

It slipped out of his fingers before he could get it to his mouth.

"I'm glad that didn't happen with the pickle jar," said Ivan, picking the chicken up from the blanket. "Maybe tiny blanket fibers will be just the thing to make it taste Kentucky-fried."

Piotr came in from the back yard just as Katerina and Esther reached the door. Katerina ducked outside with the salt in hand. Piotr and Esther paused a moment at the threshold.

"Nobody's killed anybody yet," said Piotr, joking.

"That's what I'm going outside to change," said Esther, only partly joking.

"Don't do any killing that the police will ask about later," said Piotr, not joking at all now.

"Nothing that talks."

As Esther came through the door onto the patio in back, Katerina was standing a few yards away from Vanya and Ruthie, watching. It was a sight to see: Ivan picking up a chicken breast and then fumbling it, dropping it on his lap, on the blanket, on the grass. He got up, his face red with embarrassment, to pick it up off the lawn, apologizing to Ruthie as he did.

To Esther it was obvious, as it would be to Katerina, that there was something wrong with the chicken and the charms were working. So much for Ruthie's benign intent.

Then Esther heard a dog barking. No, yipping. It was coming around the side of the house. Could this be the familiar she was looking for?

It was the annoying hairball that Mrs. Sprewel doted on. Normally it didn't wander around loose, and Esther's suspicions were fully aroused. She moved to intervene, but she wasn't quick enough. The dog took a flying leap at Vanya. Esther screamed—but the sound was barely out of her mouth when the dog, instead of going for Vanya's jugular, snatched the chicken breast out of his hands and took off with it around the corner of the house.

It wasn't Baba Yaga that had brought the dog, it was the charm. Vanya was so insistent on eating the damn chicken that the charm had been forced to draw someone or something else to take the chicken away from him. So much for Ruthie's love potion, if that's what it was.

And from Ruthie's face, it was indeed a cataclysmic failure. But she controlled herself, and managed a smile. "I guess that means the chicken is good enough to eat," said Ruthie.

"I'll bet that piece was particularly fine," said Esther.

Ruthie smiled at her, but there was rage barely concealed behind the grin. "I suppose I did save the best for Ivan," she said. "But it turned out to be the dog's piece."

Vanya was, of course, oblivious to this barely disguised jab, but Esther heard it, and she knew that Ruthie had a great deal of malice in her. She has been influenced by Baba Yaga, thought Esther. Ruthie had faults, but malice wasn't one of them. Still, people surprise you.

Katerina murmured to Esther in proto-Slavonic, "That dog is going to be mounting every cat and squirrel in the neighborhood."

The dog had not come alone. Terrel Sprewel was standing there holding a kite in his hands. "Sorry about the dog," he said. "I guess he followed me over here and smelled the chicken."

"No problem," said Vanya. "Dogs are dogs. Next time you step on him, though, make it count."

Terrel laughed—it must be some in-joke, Esther thought, since she had no idea what Vanya was talking about.

Ruthie's hands were stroking the lid of a Tupperware tray. Whatever was in there, Esther was reasonably sure, was Ruthie's backup plan. Cookies or brownies laced with laxative?

Terrel was battling on, embarrassed. "I just wondered if, you know, after the picnic or whatever, you wanted to take a turn with the kite."

"Good idea," said Vanya. "My wife, Katerina, I don't know if she's ever flown a kite." He turned to her and asked in proto-Slavonic.

But Katerina wasn't looking at the kite at all. "The dog," she said.

Ruthie opened the Tupperware container. Brownies.

Vanya looked where Katerina was looking. So did Terrel. Vanya was halfway there before Esther saw. The dog was lying by the fence, its legs trembling, its back as tightly bent as a bow.

Vanya picked up the dog. In his arms it shuddered and died.

Terrel approached Vanya in awe. "What was in that chicken?" he asked.

Everyone turned to look at Ruthie. She was standing now, looking in horror at the dog. "It can't be the chicken," she said.

And Esther believed her. Ruthie had been acting as if the chicken had a love potion in it. If she had known it was lethal, Esther doubted she would have sent Katerina away.

"Oh, Ivan," said Ruthie. "You were that close to eating it. You have to believe me, I didn't know."

"I believe you," said Vanya. But he turned away from her, and toward Katerina, taking her hand. It had the effect of closing a door in Ruthie's face.

In proto-Slavonic, Katerina said to Vanya, "I can't wait to eat the rest of the meal."

But Esther was watching Ruthie, who had dumped the Tupperware tray of brownies onto the lawn and was grinding them into the grass with her feet. She saw Esther looking at her. Tears were streaming down her face. "If I were any damn good as a cook maybe he would have married me," said Ruthie. "But I never thought this shit would really hurt anybody."