Miss Landon and Aubranael

Part 6

'Tell me something,' Hidenory said. 'Do you intend to tell this Miss Landon your true identity?'

He thought about this for a moment, then shook his head. If she knew right away, her perception of him would be coloured by her memories of his true face, and much of the effect would be destroyed. He would present himself to her all bright and new, as a congenial stranger; they had got along so splendidly before, why should they not do so again? But still better, this time, with his perfect new face.

Hidenory's eyes narrowed and she stared at him as though she was reading his mind. Perhaps she was. 'One month,' she said. 'That is what I can offer you. But there is a condition.'

Aubranael waited, breathless, hoping it would not be beyond his power to accept.

'I will participate in your deception, but only to a degree. At the end of your month, you must tell her the truth. Do you agree?'

Aubranael's imagination helpfully offered him vision after vision of the probable outcome of that, none of them good. But he agreed. Of course he agreed! He would agree to anything, now.

But one further matter remained unresolved. 'Wh...how much will it cost?' he asked.

'I have yet to decide.' She eyed him speculatively. 'I will consider the matter. For now, shall we say that you will owe me a good turn?'

'Yes!' he said. 'Anything!'

Hidenory smiled wickedly. 'Anything? Well, now. You should be careful of unlimited promises to witches. If I were not such a fair and generous soul... but, no matter. Let us begin.'

Aubranael was startled to notice a great silver cauldron where none had been before. It was full of water, and an image slowly bled across the surface.

A gentleman of England stood there. He was tall and handsome, with thick dark hair and a strong chin. He was dressed in clothes of a type Aubranael had never seen: long pale trousers, a coat with tails, and a tall hat. He stood leaning elegantly on a polished wooden cane, surveying his surroundings (whatever they were) with the self-satisfied smile of a man who has everything he could possibly wish for.

Aubranael had never smiled that way.

'Is this what you had in your thoughts?' Hidenory enquired.

Aubranael could only nod dumbly. He couldn't articulate the longing he felt on beholding this piece of perfection; there were not words enough.

'Very good. That's easy enough,' said the witch, and her prosaic tone broke his reverie. He stood watching her, scarcely breathing, as he awaited the transformation.

'What are you staring at me for?' Hidenory said. 'Behold your own face.' She gestured at the cauldron.

He looked down to find that the stylish gentleman had gone. The water was now as clear as a mirror, and in it he could see his own reflection.

The sight stole his breath and brought tears to his eyes. Gone was the ruined face he had for so long despised. In its place he saw chiselled features; an aristocratic nose; the strong chin he had admired on Hidenory's image; clear brown eyes and a smiling mouth. His hair had not changed in colour, but it had been considerably shortened. Looking down at himself, he saw that he was wearing the strange costume of the English gentleman.

He stood a little straighter, rolling back his shoulders. A wide smile made its way onto his fine new mouth, and refused to be repressed.

Hidenory was laughing at him. 'It will suit you admirably, that I can see,' she said. 'Do not grow too used to it, mind. You have but a single month.'