Mercedes Lackey - Sleeping Beauty

The bird chuckled. "And modest, too, just like a real proper Hero. No wonder Cast-Iron Cleavage is trying to get you to wake her up."

Siegfried shuddered. That last escape had been a very narrow one. "Where are we, anyway?"

The bird cocked her head to one side. "A rather nice little place," she said. "I believe it's called Eltaria."

Rosa had never thought of herself as being weak — in fact, she had taken a great deal of pride in being able to keep up with the most enthusiastic of the hunters, the most energetic of games players, in the Court. When her mother had given her all those lessons in commonplace tasks, nothing had ever been beyond her strength or endurance.

The few times she had given the idea any thought, she had been quite certain that she would have no difficulty whatsoever in being able to work side by side with any of the servants in the Palace, do their work, and be no more worn out at the end of the day than they were.

By her second day with the Dwarves she knew how wrong she was.

Even though she was doing the barest minimum that she could get away with, the work she was doing was hard, backbreakingly hard. It had never looked that hard when the servants were doing it. She was exhausted by the time the Dwarves went to their beds, and fell asleep immediately. She was tired within a few hours of getting up in the morning, and everything ached.

The Dwarves had produced more clothing for her to clean and mend today, hauling it out of chests where it had been so long that the folds were actually stiff, She was listlessly spreading the boiled shirts out on bushes to dry, when something entirely unexpected made her look up, startled.

"Hello the house!" called a cheerful, slightly cracked voice. "Anyone here?"

For a moment, she didn't know what to do. Then she answered. "In the back garden?" Her own voice was hoarse, and sounded strange to her; it was so rough and full of fear it sounded as if it belonged to someone else. Around the corner of the cottage came a perfectly ordinary-looking old woman, one with a sweet and kindly face. She wore the sort of clothing peasants did: patched and worn, but very clean. She carried a basket over one arm — and Rosa could not for a single moment imagine where she had come from. But when she spotted Rosa, her hand flew to her mouth, and her eyes widened in consternation. "Oh deary me!" she exclaimed, hurrying over to where Rosa was standing, dumbfounded. "Those wretched, wretched Dwarves! Wicked things! What have they done to you, poor child?"

"I — ah — "

The woman put her basket down, words pouring out of her in a perfect torrent. "I talk to my bees you know, bees, terrible gossips they are, but usually accurate, and today they told me, yes they did, that the Dwarves had a new servant girl, and I couldn't imagine anyone serving the likes of them on her own, or at least not without being tricked into it, and they wouldn't part with a groat so they couldn't havehired a girl, so I hurriedright over to see what I could see, knowing that she'd be all alone during the day, and I said to myself, 'Maggie, you must see what they're doing to the girl, if there even is a girl, and see if it's a Dwarf girl or a human one, and how she managed to get tangled up withthose Dwarves,' so I did, you see, and here you are and here I am and goodgracious look at you, you poor thing!"

As she spoke she was fussing over Rosa, looking at her cut, bruised, and now-burned hands, patting her hair away from her face, tugging at her dirty clothing. "I...was running away and they grabbed me," Rosa managed, finally, a certain alarm rising in her, for she thought she recognized this situation as a Traditional Path — but how could anything be worse than the situation she was already in? "I asked them for help, and told them I'd do anything — "

"Ah, and the horrible things called it a bargain, did they?" The old woman frowned. "They would, and they'll use that to hold you here as long as they like. Well! I'm Old Maggie the bee lady. Aren't I, my sweets? And good little things you were to tell me about this poor, poor little wench!"

While she had been speaking every bee in the garden had left what it was doing to come circle about her as if the old woman was some kind of enormous, fragrant flower. She held up her index finger, and one of the bees landed on it, vibrating its wings to make a buzzing that almost sounded like speech.

"You are my brave little workers, so you are," she said tenderly. The bee flew toward the old woman's face, making Rosa flinch, and touched its head to the tip of the old woman's nose before flying off. The rest of the bees went back to their business.

And a thought managed to make its way up out of the depths of Rosa's exhaustion-fogged mind. No bee will abide in the presence of evil.

So whoever, whatever she was — this "Old Maggie" was a friend.

Rosa burst into tears.

About an hour later, for the first time in days, Rosa was feeling better. Old Maggie chattered nonstop, making it almost impossible to get a word in, but that wasn't so bad, because it meant Rosa didn't have to say anything herself.

As for the rest, Maggie had taken charge of the entire situation.

She'd tested Rosa's manacle and chain herself, said a very ladylike curse and pronounced herself "fair gobsmacked," which Rosa assumed meant she was baffled. Out of the basket had come a lovely little loaf and end of ham, a pot of honey and the sort of salad that a woods-wise person can make if she knows what's edible — a great deal of watercress, some crisp roots, a little sorrel, some tender goosegrass and a few edible flowers. That alone would have convinced Rosa that the old woman was what she seemed to be. She could not begin to imagine her Stepmother recognizing any of that, much less knowing it was good to eat.

Now all that food was inside Rosa; she sat combing her hair, working the tangles and knots out with a comb that Maggie had produced from a skirt pocket, while Maggie "Set the kitchen to rights."

It looked almost like magic. Truly. Somehow Maggie had gotten the ancient mop, which was as stiff as wood, to soften. She'd gone into the cellar and returned with a dirt-encrusted box which she declared with glee had soap in it — and so it did. She had already scrubbed the table, the sink and the counter, and the grime had just dissolved away. It was rather hard to tell, because the wood and stone were so stained and blackened that they didn't look much different, but if you touched them you knew the difference. Now she was doing the same with the floor.

"This soap is nasty stuff, my duck, strong but nasty," she chattered. "Wonderful for floors, but not so nice for you, pretty. Old Maggie will just — "

Then she stopped, tilting her head to the side. A bee had just flown in the open door and was buzzing at her. Her face took on an expression of alarm.

"My land, one of those horrible Dwarves is coming!" She bustled over to Rosa, but Rosa was already on her feet, shoving the comb into her pocket. Her mind seemed a thousand times clearer now, and it was obvious what she needed to do. She took the mop from Maggie, and Maggie whisked out the door. A few moments later, Coward bumbled inside. He looked about and grunted, threw the morning's catch on the table, shoved her roughly aside and helped himself to the remains of the porridge in the pot on the hearth. When he had eaten it all and scraped the pot clean, he went out again. A short while later, Old Maggie reappeared and took the mop from Rosa.

"You just get your poor hair unsnarled, pretty," she said, head bobbing. "And you leave the rest of this mopping to Old Maggie, and after your hair is set to rights, I'll be cleaning while you deal with those poor conies. Tomorrow I'll bring you some nice soap so you can be getting yourself clean."