Copyright 2000, Mary Mannon Reeves. No part of this story may be used in any way without the author's written permission.
ROSEMARY AND TIME
By
Mary Mannon Reeves
Alice gathered the puny bundles of rosemary and tucked them in her basket, under the sampler she was delivering to Marta, the clove-studded oranges for Samuel, and the list for Jonathon's party. That, of course, had to come first. She spared a moment to look in on the soon-to-be four-year-old. He was sleeping soundly, sharing an afternoon nap with Krisss. The cat slitted one eye, then yawned.
He'll be fine. I'm here.
Alice smiled at her familiar's arrogance. Krisss was new to the family and not much more than a kit himself.
"Aye, well. Just in case anything comes up, Tom is in the garden, trying to coax the rosemary into producing a little more greenery."
Won't happen. Old Man Jasper's St. Bernard has watered on every shrub in town. No rosemary, no love potions. Too bad.
The cat's tone was less than sympathetic. He'd yet to forgive her for that one particular visit to the vet...
She only chuckled as she shut the door behind her. It was a pleasant day for a walk into town. Midsummer decorations were out in cheerful force, with wreaths of mugwort and cinquefoil festooning almost every home. Windchimes of glass snake-rings tinkled on the porches and tiny, twinkling lights that looked like fireflies and foxfire and will'o'th'wisps adorned every tree.
Jonathon, of course, assumed that all the fuss was for his birthday, being at that self-centered age. It was difficult, having a birthing day on one of the biggest esbats of the year, but it would be worthwhile in the long run. The only child more promising in power than a child conceived on Midsummer was one born then.
But for nine more years, it was a pain in the broom sitting department. Tom insisted that Jonathon get both birthing day and midsummer gifts so that he never felt left out. A Samhain babe himself, Tom was a little oversensitive about it. And for once, he had done his share of the gift making or buying. All that was left was the Wild Wicked Wizards Figurine #35. The Gnarly Gnomish Gnatman. When they weren't scattered across the floor in a mini-mage war, figures 1 through 34 were lined up lovingly on Jon's shelves. He'd already saved a spot for the Gnatman, confident that his only request would be granted.
Unfortunately, Jonathon's confidence had not allowed for the powers of supply and demand. There wasn't a single Gnarly Gnomish Gnatman left on the department store shelves.
Strike two for having a holiday birthday, Alice snarled after three hours of fighting the holiday crowds. Every other child in this town wanted the same thing. Apparently, their mothers had been a good bit quicker on the draw. Only an hour after the figurines had been unpacked, they'd been sold.
"Actually, it must have been a dad, not a mom, " the clerk said. "With lot of kids. He bought every one of them."
Something smelled like day-old dragon droppings. Smoke trailed faintly from Alice's ears as she left the last store and sparks danced a hex pattern from thumbs to forefingers. She considered briefly witching up one of the toys, but even the higher mages had never conquered the mysteries of plastic. Any efforts tended to become animated, and Alice was quite certain that she didn't want a completely live-action Gnatman blistering holes in her linoleum. She already had salamanders.
"Have you tried The Omni Nook?" Marta took her sampler and shook it out, admiring the fine hex-work cross-stitched into the raw linen. "I hear that Old Jasper's got anything anybody wants."
"At what price? I've never seen horns on the rotten old goat, but I've smelled the sulphur."
"That's just a gland problem. In fact, I heard he's a mundane. No powers at all. I get a ferocious headache every time I'm in because of all the wards he's had put up."
"I'll do almost anything, pay almost anything, to get that stupid toy." Alice sighed.
Unfortunately, "almost anything" did not include 73 silver Hecates.
"You have got to be kidding!" She stared at the old man across a counter adorned by a single Gnarly Gnomish Gnatman. "I could by a real gnome for that!"
"Ah ah ah," he forced out a wheezy chuckle. "But then you'd have to clean up after it. Listen, lady, in this business, you got to have a good memory. I just happened to remember that the last shipment of the Gnatmen got held up in Hokenrott. Big wizard battle, backwash hit the shipment, they all came alive. They're holding them there until someone can excorcise them. I paid a lot a of money for those Gnatmen, got to get some of it back."
"At 73 Hecates you won't have to sell ma..what do you mean those Gantmen? You were the one who bought out the stores!"
She snapped a Searching gaze around the room, only to be answered with a mental smack between her eyes. Jasper's wards were professional and painfully effective. Mundane vision showed her what the Arcane could not, that the rest of the Gnatmen were hidden away.
"Supply and demand, lady. You want a Gantman for your kid, I got one. You got 73 Hecates, you got one."
"That's extortion," Alice's head throbbed with the restrictions of the wards. Funny thing about them though, they wove around his goods and his body, but there was a temporary feel to them. Perhaps they only worked when an actual witch was in his proximity? "I won't pay it, and I hope no one else does, either. I hope you end up having to give the damn things away!"
