How the King of Elfhame Learned to Hate Stories

"As he was about to take his leave, the boy's

sharp tongue found something cutting to say, but

since his stone heart allowed him to find no

amusement in it, for the first time he swallowed

his cruel words. Instead, he asked if the man

knew anyone else with work for him.

"'You're a good lad, so I will tell you this,

although perhaps it would be better if I didn't,'

said the tavernkeeper. 'The baron is looking to

marry off his daughter. She is rumored to be so

fearsome that no man can spend three nights in

her chambers. But if you do, you'll win her hand

—and her dowry.'

"'I fear nothing,' said the boy, for his heart of

stone made any feeling impossible."

Cardan interrupted. "The moral is obvious.

The boy wasn't rude to the innkeeper, so he was

given a quest. And because he was rude to the

witch, he got cursed. So the boy shouldn't be

rude, right? Rude boys get punished."

"Ah, but if the witch hadn't cursed him, he

would never have been given the quest, either,

would he? He'd be back home, sharpening his

wit on some poor candlemaker," said the troll

woman, pointing a long finger at him. "Listen a

little longer, princeling."

Cardan had grown up in the palace, a wild thing to be cosseted by

courtiers and scowled at by the High King. No one much liked him, and he

told himself he cared little for anyone else. And if he sometimes thought

about how he might do something to win his father's favor, something to

make the Court respect him and love him, he kept that to himself. He

certainly asked no one to tell him stories, and yet he found it was nice to be

told one. He kept that to himself, too.

Aslog cleared her throat and began speaking again. "When the boy

presented himself to the baron, the old man looked upon him with sadness.

'Spend three nights with my daughter, showing no fear, and you shall marry her and inherit all that I have. But I warn you, no man has managed it, for

she is under a curse.'

"'I fear nothing,' the boy told him.

"'More's the pity,' said the baron.

"By day, the boy did not see the baron's daughter. As evening came on,

the servants bathed him and fed him an enormous meal of roasted lamb,

apples, leeks, and bitter greens. Having no dread of what was ahead, he ate

his fill, for never had he had a finer meal, and then rested in anticipation of

the night ahead.

"Finally, the boy was led to a chamber with a bed at the center and a

clawed-up couch tucked into a corner. Outside, he heard one of the servants

whispering about what a tragedy it was for such a handsome lad to die so

young."

Cardan was leaning forward now, utterly captivated by the tale.

"He waited as the moon rose outside the window. And then something

came in: a monster covered in fur, her mouth filled with three rows of razorsharp teeth. All other suitors had run from her in terror or attacked her in

rage. But the boy's heart of stone kept him from feeling anything but

curiosity. She gnashed her teeth, waiting for him to show fear. When he did

not, but rather climbed into the bed, she followed, curling up at the end of it

like an enormous cat.

"The bed was very fine, much more comfortable than sleeping on the

floor of a tavern. Soon both were asleep. When the boy woke, he was alone.

"The household rejoiced when he emerged from the bedchamber, for no

one had ever made it through a single night with the monster. The boy spent

the day strolling through the gardens, but although they were glorious, he

was troubled that no happiness could yet touch him. On the second night,

the boy brought his evening meal with him to the bedchamber and set it on

the floor. When the monster came in, he waited for her to eat before he took

his portion. She roared in his face, but again he didn't flee, and when he

went to the bed, she followed.

"By the third night, the household was in a state of giddy anticipation.

They dressed the boy like a bridegroom and planned for a wedding at

dawn."

Cardan heard something in her voice that suggested that wasn't how

things were going to go at all. "And then what?" he demanded. "Didn't he

break the curse?"

"Patience," said Aslog the troll woman. "The

third night, the monster came straight over,

nuzzling him with a furred jaw. Perhaps she was

excited, knowing that in mere hours her curse

might be broken. Perhaps she felt some affection

for him. Perhaps the curse compelled her to test

his mettle. Whatever the reason, when he didn't

move away, she butted her head playfully against

his chest. But she didn't know her own strength.

His back slammed against the wall, and he felt

something crack in his chest."

"His heart of stone," said Cardan.

"Yes," said the troll woman. "A great swell of

love for his family swept over him. He felt a

longing for the village of his childhood. And he

was filled with a strange and tender love for her,

his cursed bride.

"'You have cured me,' he told her, tears

wetting his cheeks.

"Tears that the monster took for a sign of fear.

"Her enormous jaws opened, teeth gleaming.

Her great nose twitched, scenting prey. She could

hear the speeding of his heart. In that moment, she

sprang on him and tore him to pieces."

"That's a terrible story," Cardan said,

outraged. "He would have been better off if he'd never left home. Or if he'd

said something cruel to the tavern-keeper. There is no point to your tale,

unless it is that nothing has any meaning at all."

The troll woman peered down at him. "Oh, I think there's a lesson in it,

princeling: A sharp tongue is no match for a sharp tooth."