The Transfigured Hart by Jane Yolen

Author:Jane Yolen [Yolen, Jane]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Tachyon Publications
Published: 1997-09-15T07:00:00+00:00

“I don’t know,” said Richard, at once bewildered at her leap and comforted by her interest. “I could look it up.”

“Okay. But not now.” She smiled, but the smile went into the ground, not toward Richard. “Now finish telling me about unicorns.”

“I haven’t begun yet.”

Heather didn’t say anything, and her silence encouraged him.

“The books say the unicorn is as old as Greek or Roman myths at least.”

“At least,” agreed Heather.

Richard looked over at her to see if she was mocking him. But she was just nodding and waiting for him to go on, plucking at some dry grass.

“It’s supposed to look like a horse. Or a goat. Or maybe a deer. And it has this one golden horn in the middle of its head. A horn with a spiral twist.”

“I like that,” Heather said. “The twist, I mean.”

“The name ‘unicorn’ means ‘one-horn.’” Richard said it suddenly, almost triumphantly.

“I know that!”

“You do?”

“I’m taking Latin,” said Heather.

This so surprised Richard that he didn’t know what to say. Yet he didn’t know why he should be surprised. So he ignored it and went on. “Some unicorns seemed to have goat’s beards or lion’s tails.” He reached out to finger the card with the smudge on it.

“So there are—I mean is, or do I mean are?—more than one in the world.”

Richard was puzzled again at this leap. Then, just as suddenly, he understood the way her mind had gone. He said thoughtfully, “I think it’s just the difference between one storyteller and another. One added a tail. Another a beard.”

“Okay,” said Heather, plucking at the dry grass again, “but it might be important.” She noticed the sandwiches wrapped up and lying on the ground. She sat up then and picked them up, offering one to Richard and taking the other herself. She began to munch, and then, with a mouth full of peanut butter and apple jelly, said, “You see, we have to know everything we can about it if we’re going to tame it. If there’s a herd, or if it’s male or female, or what it likes to eat or . . .”

“But how did you know?”

Heather looked at him. “Know what?”

“That I want to tame it.”

“I want to tame it.”

“But it’s my . . .”

“Our unicorn,” said Heather. “So we will have to do it together. What do the books say about taming unicorns?”

“Well,” admitted Richard, “they mostly say the unicorn can only be captured with a golden bridle by a pure Maid.”

“We’ve got one of those at home,” said Heather excitedly.

“A golden bridle?” asked Richard.

“No,” said Heather. “The maid. Well, maybe not a maid, but a cleaning lady.”

“Oh my God!” said Richard.

“What’s wrong?”

“A Maid, a pure Maid is . . .” He suddenly stopped talking.

“Did I say something wrong?” asked Heather.

“A Maid is a maiden.”

“Oh,” said Heather, without thinking. “You mean a virgin.”

They were both so embarrassed then, they flopped simultaneously on the grass, and their shoulders almost touched.

“Well,” said Heather at last, “we do have one of those.” She looked down steadily at the ground as if summoning up the courage to say what had to be said next.

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