The Master by Melanie Jackson Page A

“Tell us about that.”
    â€œWell, there are certain foods that go with Christmas,” Nick admitted.
    â€œCandy canes,” Zee said, remembering the name of the candy she had tried once when she’d first gone into town. She’d gone with the city children there to see the fat man in a red suit who came to the mall in December. They called him Santa Claus, but she knew he wasn’t. The real Santa was an elf; her mother had sometimes threatened her with him.
    â€œYes, peppermint is a Christmas flavor,” Nick said.
    â€œAnd eggnog!” added Gretel.
    â€œToadstool pie?” Hansel suggested, feeling left out.
    â€œUh . . . no,” Nick said. Then, seeing the boy’s wounded expression, he added kindly: “That would probably be more of a Halloween dish.”
    â€œHalloween?” both children asked.
    Zee named the holiday in Gaelic, and both children nodded. They knew of certain pagan revels practiced by the people in the town nearest their home.
    â€œWhen did Christmas start?” Gretel asked. “When will it end?”
    â€œWell, that depends,” Nick answered. Dredging from some sparse recollection of holiday lore, he said, “In some places they practice the twelve days of Christmas. In some places, they celebrate just one day.”
    â€œWhy?” Hansel asked.
    â€œI’m not sure—but there’s a song about the twelve days of Christmas.”
    â€œSing it!” the children urged.
    Nick obligingly cleared his throat and began to sing about a partridge in a pear tree. His voice was nice and the children thought it terrific fun, joining in when they remembered the order of the gifts.
    Nick drank deeply of his tea when the song was done. He had a slight band of sweat gathering on his brow. Zee stared at him, half-fascinated.
    â€œSing us another song,” Gretel begged.
    â€œUh . . . well, okay . . . I know one. It’s about a reindeer with a red nose.”
    As Nick began to sing, Zee reached for the pan on the hearth; she poured out more tea for him and the children. There was nothing bad in the tea, but the herbal concoction would help kill any hunger pangs that might be stirring in their empty bellies. It hurt to think of the children going hungry, but she wouldn’t be able to go hunting until the morning, and they would be feeling it by then if they didn’t drink the tea.
    The children approved of this song, too, though they were clearly a bit hazy about what reindeer were even after Nick described them.
    â€œAnother song! Another song!” Hansel demanded, clapping his hands together. “A food song!”
    â€œWell . . .” Nick drank more tea and thought. “I know one more—it even has a little food in it.” He began to sing.
    The song was very pretty, but when Nick got to the line about “Jack Frost nipping at your nose,” both children gasped and looked round-eyed. He stopped singing.
    â€œWhat? What’s wrong?”
    Zee explained quickly, “Jack Frost is a . . . do you know the word
bogeyman?”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œIn our culture, Jack Frost is one.”
    â€œOh. Sorry.” He sounded nonplused.
    â€œThat is all right. It’s just a legend. I am sure the real Jack Frost is a very nice man.” She spoke for the children’s benefit. She had reassured them many times that going to see the fey wouldn’t be dangerous; she just prayed it was true. She would have liked to ask Nick his opinion, but if he hadn’t heard of lutins, he probably hadn’t heard of the fey either. “Please, Nick, go on with your song. It’s lovely.”
    â€œNo. I don’t remember all the words, anyway,” he said.
    Zee poured more tea.
    â€œWhat else is Christmas?” Gretel asked, still looking bright-eyed but apparently coming down off her nutmeg high.
    Nick looked uncomfortable with the topic, yet he obviously wanted to be truthful and