Eye of Newt and Toe of Frog

[Raya]

As promised, here is the prequel to my book Witchcanery. This prequel was actually the short story that gave me the whole idea for the book and contains the information leading up to the start of Witchcanery. It is so relevant, that I have almost decided to include Eye of Newt and Toe of Frog as the Prologue for the book. So, without further preamble, here is the short story:

EYE OF NEWT AND TOE OF FROG

By Sandra "Raya" Bell

Normally, Shelley would have dismissed the message as junk mail. “We know what you have done!” the email proclaimed.

Swearing an unwitchly oath at her ISP, she had finally resorted to witchcanery--waving her hand at her hard drive to open the email. “You have broken a prime law of the universe,” it read. “Be at the corner of Third and Main at 10:30 this morning with the recipe and the child or you will be sorry.” It was signed by the Grand Wizard himself.

“Hurry, Brad,” she urged the child. He obediently trotted faster, then fell, skinning his knee. She swung him into her arms, racing towards the intersection.

His chubby arms wound around her neck, as he laid his head on her shoulder. She felt an increasingly familiar tug at her heartstrings.

Shelley spotted Jason on the opposite curb, near the entrance to Putnam’s Prairie Feeds. He straightened his lean, denim-clad body when he saw her, dropped a cigarette, crushing it beneath his boot.

“You’re late,” he said.

“Sorry,” she replied. “I didn’t get your email until 10.”

He strode towards Putnam’s. “Today’s portal is behind the salt licks.”

Stepping aside, he held the door for her. “You brought the recipe?”

The only recipe Shelley thought the Council might be interested in was the family heirloom. She nodded briefly, following Jason between displays of coarse white salt licks. Abruptly, he disappeared. Shelley instinctively knew Brad was in danger. She could have refused the directive, but you didn’t get to be 212 years old by defying the Grand Council of Wizards. Better to obey and try to find out her supposed transgression.

She had spent the last 182 years of her life following the yearly Council guidelines. Originally penned on parchment and delivered by crows, they were now efficiently sent by email…although, come to think of it, you didn’t have to reboot a crow.

As Shelley stepped forward, reality rippled briefly, thrusting her into the large, delicately glowing crystal chamber of the Grand Council.

“Place your hand under the scope,” Jason directed, drawing her over to the main computer alcove, the wall screen glowing a pale blue. Stooping, she set the still-sleeping child on the floor, then thrust her hand in front of the screen, glaring defiantly at Jason.

The information flowed across the crystal screen:

SHELLEY KESINKOWSKY, age 212 years, journeyman witch, assigned to North America, focus Hesselburg, Iowa, U.S.A.

ILLEGAL ACTIVITY – contravening Universal Mandate 1-7335 – “None except the Grand Creator may create soulless living creatures in the image of Man. Permissible rudimentary constructs: soulless familiars used by witches, warlocks, and some mage classes. These may not be created so as to be confused with Humankind. Soulless constructs not adhering to restrictions will be destroyed – with strong disciplinary action to the creators thereof.”

“Now, put the recipe under the light, Shelley.”

With a sinking heart, she obeyed. Immediately the words appeared.

GOLEM RECIPE – originally created by Maude Schlurr, A.D. 1429

45 ale gallons of all-purpose Mud
1 dozen cubit-high Switches
yon assorted Gravel
eye of newt and Toe of frog
1 black Raven’s quill

Grandma Esther had proudly passed the family heirloom to Shelley. “In your early 200s, honey, you’ll have the power to create your first golem. Nothing like a good golem to lighten your weary load.” Grandma Esther talked like that.

Shelley had awakened on her 211th birthday, instinctively knowing it was the day.

“Nothing wrong with that recipe,” Shelley protested to Jason. “Created by my great-great grandmother, handed down to me. Nobody ever complained about our family golems!” She hugged Brad to her protectively.

“The results are wrong,” Jason said. “Look at your golem – the spitting image of a human boy.”

“I followed the recipe,” she protested. “Except raven’s feathers are hard to come by in Hesselburg. I used a dove feather instead.”

Jason regarded her coolly. “Regardless, we now have a human-looking but soulless construct.”

Sleepily, Brad raised his head and beamed his sweet smile at Jason. Jason coughed, replacing an unlit cigarette in his pack of Camels.

“He even elicits the human response to human children. I haven’t been tempted to kindness in 400 years.”

The wizard drew himself up, his denims bristling with authority. “Contravening that law shreds the very fabric of the Universe.”

“Wait,” Shelley cried, her heart aching. “The law wouldn’t be broken if he has a soul!”

“Journeyman Kesinkowsky – that excuse has been done to death. Humans have souls, constructs do not.”

“But I love him.” She shot Jason a pleading look. “He must have a soul since he made me love so much. You know witches aren’t known for love. They…they…fly on broomsticks…reboot computers by waving their hands…and…and…”

“That is not acceptable proof that this construct has a soul. He must be destroyed.”

As Jason muttered wizard-sounding words, Brad squeezed his eyes shut under the thick golden lashes.

“No!” Shelley shook Jason’s arm. He gestured towards her, and she sprawled in an untidy heap. The child-golem regarded Jason solemnly, scampering over to him.

“Not hurt mama,” the child said. “Hurt me instead.” He stood defiantly, his golden head barely as high as Jason’s waist.

Jason lifted his hand to deliver the spell – pausing as the crystal screen changed from blue to white. The words slid across the screen. “Construct exhibits soul-quality love. Further investigation of soullessness required. Abort destruction.”

Jason frowned. “Investigations to continue at a later date.” He waved his hand. “

Shelley blinked, then sighed with relief at the green Third and Main street sign. “Let’s go home, sweetie,” she told Brad, as they crossed with the light.

Copyright © 2002 by Sandra Bell
All rights reserved.

P.S. If you enjoyed this short story, you can find more short stories (free downloads) at the site.

[Pirotess]

Excellent story Raya! Thanks for sharing it with us. We'll get it up in our news update today.

I'll definitely make sure to pick up a copy of Witchcanery soon!

[Aredhel]

Fun, Raya! Thanks.

[Pel]

awsome story! more more!