‘Now, my fine ladies, my estimable lords, my fortunate young ones!’ The assistant was shouting; essential over the racket. ‘Come closer, come closer, and the Master will show you the amazing remedies we have for you this year, some tried and true, some wondrous new discoveries, all astonishingly effective.’
He went on in this vein for some time. I glanced around. There was still no sign of Peg and Molly and the others. I moved closer. I could see the source of the noise now: a brightly coloured bird tethered to a perch on the far side of the cart. Behind it were more caged creatures. Doves. Finches. A pale-furred hare, confined very close, so close it could not turn, let alone flex its strong legs and spring as was the way of its kind. There was a boy there, poking his finger in at it, and the creature had not even the room to flinch away. I looked into its eyes: blank, staring eyes where panic had overtaken reason. The bird screamed again, and it seemed to me it was crying out the rage and the fear of all of them, for being shut up and put on show and looked at, for being a thing of beauty shackled and gawked at and enjoyed, and then thrown away without further thought.
The man was going on about a potion of strength. He pretended to drink a little, and then chose a big fellow from the crowd to come up and fight him. The result was inevitable. The two of them made a pretence of sparring, and then the Master’s assistant felled his much larger opponent with a careful tap to the jaw. The giant collapsed, and the crowd gasped. After a short pause, during which a child was heard to say, ‘Is he dead, Mam?’ the fellow began to groan, and was hauled to his feet, rubbing his jaw and rolling his eyes. There was a babble of excitement, and an eager jostle of buyers. I wondered how much they had paid the large man for his performance.
‘And now,’ said the henchman, apparently buoyed by his success, ‘the Master himself will demonstrate the use of the new, all-effective love philtre. Made with his very own hands, this potion of power will transform the most reluctant sweetheart into … dear friends, you cannot imagine. It must speak for itself. Good folk, here is … the Master.’
We were supposed to cheer, I think. I still could not see properly. But if I moved any closer, I would be right in the crowd, and folk would look at me and press up against me and maybe talk to me and … My fingers clutched the amulet for reassurance. Use the Glamour, child, said my grandmother’s voice, somewhere in my head. Be what you like.
I did it quickly, before I could change my mind. Peg and Molly weren’t there. Darragh was busy. Nobody would notice a thing. I chose the form I judged least likely to draw any attention, a much older version of myself, a woman of middle years, in plain working clothes, shawled and scarved and straggle-haired. I could have been anyone. Indeed, there were many others just like me in the throng. Not a soul noticed as I moved quietly down to stand near the front, where I could see the man who called himself the Master scanning the crowd, while maintaining his pose of disdain.
‘The Master’s looking,’ said his assistant portentously. ‘Looking, searching for a fellow that’s lonely; for some poor soul with no sweetheart. What about you, sir?’
‘He’s taken!’ retorted a sharp female voice from the back of the crowd. Everyone laughed.
‘Ah,’ said the assistant as the Master pointed a bony finger. ‘Here’s a fellow. What is your name, sir?’
The man was red with embarrassment, but grinning at the same time. ‘His name’s Ross,’ offered a helpful friend, spluttering with laughter. ‘A few sheaves short of the full stack, but a fine man for all that.’ It sounded as if they’d made an early start on the ale.
‘You’d like a pretty sweetheart, now, wouldn’t you, Ross?’ asked the assistant as he hauled his victim up on the cart steps where all could view him. ‘Let’s see if we can find one for you. Which of you ladies wants to test our new elixir, now?’
There was a shuffling of feet, and a silence. Seemingly there were no takers. I was not surprised. The man they had chosen was skinny and none too clean looking, and he had a bulbous nose with a drip on the end.
‘Come, now,’ coaxed the henchman. ‘Who’ll try it? There must be a lovely lady here who’d like a bit of fun? No? Then the Master himself must beg.’
The black-cloaked man had already descended from the cart, and had begun to pace along the front where folk stood close-packed. I had been watching him, while others had all their attention on the fellow who was doing the talking. The Master had in his hand a fine gold chain with a small, shining object strung on it, and he was dangling it to and fro, to and fro.
‘There might be a little something in it, for the girl that’s bold enough,’ hinted the assistant. The Master paced back and forth. The little chain swung left and right, left and right. He halted. He paused. He stretched out a finger and pointed.
‘Ah!’ exclaimed the assistant. ‘We have a willing taker. Come up, my dear, come up and sip this exquisite potion, made from carefully selected herbs and berries and just – a – little,’ he made a circle with his thumb and first finger, ‘of the most secretly guarded of ingredients. Just a tiny sip.’
The girl they had chosen was very young, certainly younger than myself, and poorly clad, with a gown much mended. For all that, there was a delicate bloom about her that might catch a man’s fancy. Nobody raised an objection when the men led her forward. It seemed she was there alone. Nobody noticed the way she stared at the little gold chain swinging to and fro, to and fro, as if that were all she could see. Nobody but me. I felt anger building in me.
The Master put the gold chain away in his pocket. The young girl stood there before him, her pure features blank of expression. On the other side, the man with the bulbous nose leered across at her, then rolled his eyes back to his friends in the crowd, who sniggered and poked each other in the ribs.
The Master bent over and whispered in the girl’s ear. All that I heard was, ‘Drink this, my dear.’ But there had been more. I could guess what it was.
She took the little cup in her hand and drank. There was a hush of expectation. For a moment, nothing happened. Then she turned, expressionless, and took a step over to the man, Ross. She twined her arms around his neck, and pressed her body against his, and planted a long kiss on his lips. The crowd cheered and applauded. I watched the way the man’s hand groped at her skirts, and the way his tongue went, disgustingly, in her mouth. I waited for the Master to click his fingers or wave his hand before the girl’s eyes, and undo what he had done. Instead, he watched the fellow lead the young girl down the steps and away through the crowd. A rush of other men clustered around the cart, eager to buy. I was outraged. It was nothing but a sham, an old trick, easy as long as you picked a susceptible subject. Simply done. Simply undone.
But this man had not undone it. He had let that little girl go, with that fellow, and – as I said, you are what you are. Sometimes you just have to act. The rainbow bird sat on its perch just by the Master’s shoulder, still shrieking abuse, as well it might do. I looked it in the eye, and spoke a word in my mind.
The tether that held it broke apart. Nobody saw. The bird shrank, and swelled, and changed. For a moment, in the commotion of jostling buyers, nobody noticed. Bright feathers became shining scales. Claws and beak disappeared. I used my imagination. The creature grew long and slender and sinuous. The serpent coiled around the perch, feeling the power in its muscular neck, feeling the venom in its forked tongue. Feeling the almost forgotten power of freedom.
A child spoke up again. ‘What’s that, Mam?’
The Master froze in his place as a creeping, twining presence flowed across his shoulders and around his neck, above the tattered black cloak.
‘Aaah …’ he managed, a mere thread of sound. His assistant backed away. The crowd retreated. Amongst them, the man Ross halted and stared back, still clutching the girl by one arm. I took a step forward, making sure the Master