Wizard's First Rule

Rachel deliberately worked around the Queen's box, giving it sidelong glances, afraid to touch it, yet knowing she would have to, because she had to put it back. She worked slowly, meticulously laying the jewelry in its place, carefully pushing the drawers closed, hoping somehow she wouldn't finish, so she wouldn't have to pick up the box, the Queen's favorite thing in the whole world.

The Queen wouldn't be happy at all if she knew that some nobody had touched it. Rachel knew the Queen was always having somebody's head chopped off. Sometimes, the Princess made Rachel go with her to watch, but Rachel always closed her eyes. The Princess didn't.

When all the jewelry was put away, the last drawer closed, she looked out of the corner of her eye, down at the box sitting on the floor. She felt as if it were looking back, as if it might somehow tell the Queen. Finally, squatting down, eyes wide, she picked it up. Holding it at arm's length, she carefully shuffled her feet over the edges of carpets, terrified she might drop it. She set the box in its place as slowly as she could, carefully, gingerly, fearing a jewel might fall out or something. She quickly drew her fingers away, relieved.

Turning back, she caught sight of the hem of a silver robe that touched the floor. Her breath caught in her throat. She hadn't heard footsteps. Her head slowly, almost involuntarily, rose up the line of the robe; to the hands stuck in the opposite sleeves, to the long, pointed, white beard, to the bony face, the hooked nose, the bald head, and the dark eyes looking down at her startled face.

The wizard.

"Wizard Giller," she whined, fully expecting to be struck dead any second, "I was only putting it back. I swear. Please, please don't kill me." Her face wrinkled up as she tried to make herself back away, but her feet wouldn't move. "Please." She stuck the hem of her dress in her mouth, biting it as she whimpered.

Rachel scrunched her eyes closed and shook as the wizard began sinking, lowering himself to the floor.

"Child," he said in a soft voice. Rachel cautiously opened one eye, surprised to find he was sitting on the floor, his face even with hers. "I am not going to hurt you."

She opened the other eye, just as cautiously. "You're not?" She didn't believe him. She saw with a start that the big heavy door was closed, her only escape route blocked.

"No," he smiled, shaking his bald head. "Who took the box down?"

"We were playing. That's all, just playing. I was putting it back for the Princess. She's very good to me, so very good, I wanted to help her. She's a wonderful person. I love her, she's so kind to me… He put a long finger over her lips, to gently silence her. "I get the point, child. So, you are the Princess's playmate then?"

She nodded in earnest. "Rachel."

His grin got bigger. "That's a pretty name. Glad to meet you, Rachel. I'm sorry I frightened you. I. was only coming to check on the Queen's box."

No one had ever told her that her name was pretty. But he had shut the big door. "You're not going to strike me dead? Or change me into something horrid?"

"Oh, dear, no," he laughed. He turned his head, peering at her with one eye. "Why are there red marks on your cheeks?"

She didn't answer, too scared to say. Slowly, carefully, he reached out, his fingers touching one cheek, then the other. Her eyes opened wide. The sting was gone.

"Better?"

She nodded. His eyes seemed so big, the way they looked at her up close like this. They made her feel like telling him, so she did. "The Princess hits me," she admitted, ashamed.

"So'? She is not so kind to you, then?"

She shook her head, casting her eyes downward. Then the wizard did something that absolutely stunned her. He reached around and gave her a gentle hug. She stood stiffly for a moment, then put her arms around his neck, hugging him back. His long white whiskers tickled the side of her face and neck, but she still liked it.

He looked at her with sad eyes. "I'm sorry, dear child. The Princess and the Queen can be quite cruel."

His voice sounded so nice, she thought, like Brophy's. A big grin spread beneath his hook nose.

"Tell you what, I have something here that might help." A thin hand reached into his robes, and he looked up into the air while his hand felt around.-Then his hand found what it was looking for. Her eyes went wide as he pulled out a doll with short hair the same yellow color as hers. He patted the doll's tummy. "This is a trouble doll."

"Trouble doll?" she whispered.

"Yes." He nodded. There were deep wrinkles at the ends of his smile. "When you have troubles, you tell them to the doll, and she takes them away for you. She has magic. Here. Try it out." Rachel could hardly take a breath as she reached out with both hands, her fingers carefully clutching the doll. She pulled it to her chest cautiously and hugged it. Then, tentatively, slowly, she held it out, looking at its face. Her eyes got all watery.

"Princess Violet says I'm ugly," she confided in the doll.