Read Online Rough Magic by Caryl Cude Mullin - Free Book Online Page B

further, they fell to the ground and were instantly under the wizard’s curse of twisting muscle cramps.
    During that time Prospero worked on his revenge. By sunset that day he was reinstated as the Duke of Milan. A royal engagement between Miranda and Ferdinand was officially witnessed in the hut Caliban had built. Before abandoning the island Prospero broke the staff and drowned his spellbook in the sea.
    But Caliban was not left behind. On the harbor shore Prospero had declared before everyone that Caliban belonged to him and that he meant to keep him. “This thing of darkness I acknowledge mine,” were his precise words. They were far from heart-warming, but then Caliban had tried to have him murdered.
    It had blinded and bewitched Caliban, that claim upon his soul. He had never dreamed of leaving his island. He did not desire the company of all these mocking men. When he had first come aboard they made him dizzy. They all looked like gods, with their straight limbs and shining teeth. But he was not so easily fooled anymore. He would never worship another human being.
    And he saw his master differently too. Prospero’s magic was gone. He seemed much older, and smaller, especially when he stood beside the one they called king. But Prospero would never be weak. And no one dared to tease Caliban when he stood in his master’s shadow.
    Soon they would come to this strange land filled with even more people. He’d heard Prince Ferdinand telling Miranda about it. People lived there together like a colony of nesting cormorants. He rubbed one of his bare feet against the other, warming it in the chill morning air. They would go to a castle, the prince had said. A great home, richly furnished. There would be fine food to eat, and servants to bring it to them.
    His mother would be happy to have him in such a home.
    He heard footsteps behind him. He turned, lowering his head and peering furtively. He’d learned that this was the way to attract the least attention. It was Miranda. She paused, then smiled, and continued toward him. “Good morning, Caliban,” she said, resting her hands easily on the rail before them.
    She looked like she’d lost her fear of him, no doubt because she was protected all around. She didn’t need to worry. He had seen the horror and revulsion on her face when he had tried to make her his own. Prospero had been equally disgusted with him. “You tried to violate the honor of my child!” he’d thundered, before leaving Caliban imprisoned to a rock.
    Remembering the wizard’s anger, Caliban still marveled that the man had not killed him. His mouth twisted bitterly. Miranda had called him vile and brutish. Prospero had renamed him Hagseed.
    But they still needed him.
    So Prospero let him live, even though he had boasted, reckless in his shame, that he would use Miranda to fill the island with baby Calibans.
    Yet here she was, seeking out his company. She behaved as though there had never been any darkness between them, as though he was still her friend and teacher. He supposed his face, however loathsome she might find, it, was at least familiar.
    â€œAre you frightened of it, Caliban?” she asked quietly, staring at the land ahead. “I am,” she added, putting him at ease.
    â€œYes,” he replied, simply. He was not ashamed of fear, not like the men of the ship. They ridiculed fear in themselves and others. They were afraid of being afraid, Caliban thought, and the silliness of that thought made him smile.
    She saw his smile and misunderstood. “You don’t seem to be,” she said.
    â€œI am, though,” he answered. “I miss my island. I don’t think I should have left my home.”
    â€œFather would never have left you there alone,” she said.
    Caliban did not reply. He did not mind being alone. He was far more bothered by these strangers.
    â€œI worry about how I will seem to them. The people in the