“There is a legend,” said Athelstan, oblivious to the battle of stares, “scattered records of a curse of old…”

Long ago, in the early days of the world, when the hills still smelled of magic and the world was larger than it is today, a sorcerer searched far and wide for the most beautiful woman in the world. Over the course of his travels, he saw many strange lands and learned much of magic and mysteries. He encountered many lovely women—princesses, empresses, and courtiers, but none were beautiful enough to catch his eye or steal his heart.

After journeying thrice around the world and searching longer than most men live, the sorcerer began to despair of ever finding a woman such as he sought. He resolved to abandon his quest. That very day, the sorcerer met a weaver girl in a mountain village. The moment he laid eyes on her, he fell hopelessly in love. “Surely,” said he, “this is the most beautiful woman in all the world,” and he resolved to have her for his wife.

The girl was curious about this sorcerer from afar, and she entertained his advances. She learned many secrets from the sorcerer, even the enchantment which extended his life, the spell he prized most. The more time the girl spent with the sorcerer, the less she liked him, for he was selfish and vain. So when the sorcerer asked her to marry him, the girl refused.

The sorcerer flew into a rage, claiming that she had tricked him out of his secrets. He demanded to know if she thought she would find a better man to wed. When the girl still refused his advances, the sorcerer laid a terrible curse on her.

He turned the girl’s beautiful body into that of an old hag, withered and spent, and he cursed her to spend her endless days waiting for one she cared for better than he. If ever she did, the sorcerer said, either wisdom or her love would kill her, unless she came at last to him to wed.

Athelstan finished with a nod. When he said no more, Oriell ventured hesitantly,

“I don’t see how this has to do with Arnica’s being an owl.”

“Either wisdom or love would kill her,” Athelstan repeated. “Owls are the symbol of wisdom, and the whole heart issue is clearly to do with love. White owls have always been viewed as bad luck; they’re worse than black cats, if you believe that sort of thing.

“Okay…but how do we turn her back?”

Athelstan blinked with his entire face. “How should I know?”