Rob slipped his feet into his socks, reveling at the soft, polypropylene-blend fabric. He thrust his legs into his jeans with a sigh, wriggled happily into his cotton T-shirt, and eased his glasses onto his face, smiling broadly as the whole world came into focus.

Rob was back in his own clothes, and though they were cold, damp, and badly in need of a wash, he finally felt like himself again.

“Doctor,” the Godmother called to him from the other side of her pumpkin-shaped carriage. “Are you decent? Are all of your belongings accounted for?”

“Yes, yes, everything’s good. Where did you say you found my things again?”

Rob emerged from behind the carriage to face Her Ladyship Overseeing Guilds, Inns and Market Fairs, though most people simply called her the Fair Godmother. “Some of my guild members may have stumbled upon your garments,” she said. “They’ll be dealt with, I assure you.”

“That was more than a stumble,” Rob said. “They could have killed me. I can still feel the lump on my head.”

“Your survival remains our good fortune,” she said. “But as manager of this town’s professional organizations and commercial markets, I will remind you that our barber’s guild was less violence-prone before you began stirring up doubts about blood letting.”

“Bleeding people doesn’t do any good.”

“But as far as medical treatment goes, it probably does them little harm,” the Godmother said. “And the fees help our barber-surgeons feed their families.”

“It’s still unnecessary.”

“Unnecessary for you, but perhaps not for everyone.” The Godmother opened the door to her carriage and picked up a wand-like pen with a feather poking out the back end. “May I remind you of our agreement? The one you signed with this very pen?”

Rob remembered. The Fair Godmother had summoned Rob within days of his arrival to this world, informing him that he needed to join the guilds if he wished to practice medicine. Rob’s brain hadn’t been steady enough to determine what was real or not in this strange place, let alone whether he planned to set up a medical practice, but Hans had argued that playing nice with the Godmother would keep Rob’s options open.

Securing the Godmother’s blessing had also helped people overlook his foreign dress and manners, though it hadn’t worked with everyone. Not the barber’s guild. And not always the Godmother, either.

“I remember agreeing to provide medical services,” he said.

The Godmother pointed the pen at Rob. “You also agreed not to interfere the other guilds.”

“I did?” Rob said. “Well, that part was probably in the fine print.”

“Those things usually are.”

Maggie returned to Rob’s side, an empty basket in her hand. She didn’t make a sound, but the scowl on her face spoke volumes.

“When I was a girl,” the Godmother began, ignoring Maggie and making her scowl even more pronounced. “We always had two, sometimes three doctors in town, but age and illness have taken them from us. We’re far away from the major schools of medicine, and so the physicians who do find us tend to be ineffective or mercenary.”

“I hope you’re not putting me in one of those camps,” Rob said.

“Most certainly not. Your arrival was unexpected, and your mannerisms strange, but your success in treating injury and illness cannot be argued.” The Fair Godmother drew open the carriage door, began to step up inside, then paused. “Perhaps I’m not what you expected either. Women don’t usually join guilds, let alone oversee them. I can appreciate the value in being unexpected. Truly, doctor, I can.”

After settling into her seat, the Godmother rapped her pen against the carriage’s ceiling, rousing her driver and causing him to take up the reins. “This town needs you and the medical services you provide,” she said to Rob. “And if the town needs you, then I need you. But many people resist change, especially when it affects their livelihoods. I cannot be everywhere to protect you.”

Rob glanced at Maggie’s lean, muscular frame. “I’ll take my chances.”

The Godmother shook her head. “Then I suppose we must as well, for our health is in your hands. Except for those of us who choose to visit the barber surgeons. Now, I’m late for business back in town. Doctor, may I offer you a ride?”

Rob’s feet nearly sang in relief. “That would be wonderful.”

“Hang on,” Maggie said. “What about Rae?”

“Your daughter isn’t contagious,” Rob added. “Whatever’s wrong with her, she can’t give it to anyone else.”

“I believe you’re right,” the Godmother said. “Sadly, others don’t share this opinion. Let me ask you a question. Not you, doctor. I’m speaking to you, there, with the axe and scandalous appearance.”

Maggie confidently rested her right hand on the head of her axe, but her left hand rose to fiddle with her hood. “My name is Magda the Red.”

“I know very well who you are. Have you been to the top of the tower to visit my daughter? Of course not. You won’t risk your precious mop of red hair, and neither will anyone else, aside from me. Can you imagine the market panic she’d cause is we brought her to town? No, she’s best off here, until we can discover a cure for her condition. I’ve had your mother working on this problem for years, but without success.”

“My mother?” Maggie said.

“Yes, your mother the herbalist. It seems even full-grown forest urchins like yourself have mothers. Doctor, I’m leaving now, with or without you.”

“You take that back,” Maggie snarled.

“I’ll do no such thing.” the Godmother said. “Guards, we’re leaving!”

“Yes, ma’am,” a pair of armed men responded as they scurried out from under tree cover to join the driver atop the carriage.

Rob climbed inside, then turned to Maggie. “Aren’t you coming with us?”

“No!” both she and the Godmother exclaimed in unison.

“Wait,” Rob said. “I’m not going to leave without—”

“I’ve got errands nearby,” Maggie said. “This gets you home quicker, and I’ll see you tonight. Besides, you don’t want me riding in an enclosed carriage with her.”

“For your sake as well as my own,” the Godmother said, once again rapping her pen on the carriage ceiling. “Driver! We’re off!”

The carriage jerked into motion, bumping and shaking as it traversed the rough forest road. Rob kept his eyes on Maggie as they left, but she wasn’t looking at him. Instead, the grown-up forest urchin was staring at Rae’s tower and the empty balcony running along its highest floor.

“She’s no good for you, you know,” the Godmother said following an hour of bumpy, carriage-encapsulated silence.

“No good for what?” Rob asked.

“No good for what you need.”

“Is it because Maggie’s a woman?” Rob said. “She’s pretty tough. I won’t be traveling without her again, that’s for sure.”

“Oh, I’ve no doubt she could manhandle my driver and bodyguard both, even without that shiny axe of hers. I know what my gender is capable of, you foolish man—that’s not the issue.”

“So what is the issue?”

“It’s her. It’s her wild nature, her exotic red hair, her morally dubious character. That woman is damaged goods, doctor—”

“Hey!”

“—and while I’m as eager as anyone to see you safely married off, she’d be a disastrous choice for a wife.”

“A wife? I think you’re getting a little ahead of things.”

“I’m aware of a man’s needs, doctor,” the Godmother interrupted. “I work with men all day long, and I’ve been married twice myself.

She leaned in to study him closely. “You may not be handsome in the classical sense, but you aren’t unpleasant to gaze upon, despite your odd taste in clothing. How many invitations have you received from lonely, cottage-bound women whom you meet on your medical rounds? And how many of those have you accepted?”

“I—none! I’m not that kind of guy!”

“So no invitations yet. But they will come, trust me on this, and they will cause trouble when they do. That’s why we need to marry you off, to get a woman in your bed and someone besides that boy, Hans, to mind your hearth.”

“I think I can mind my own hearth,” Rob muttered.

“Don’t be vulgar with me, doctor. You know what I mean.”

“I don’t think I do!”

A guard called out from the carriage roof. “Everything all right, ma’am?”

“We’re fine, back to your business!” she yelled. “Now. There is a girl. She’s been married once, but has no children and retains her youthful looks. She won’t bring much of a dowry, but I’d be willing to put up a fair sum as a wedding present.”

Rob shook his head. “Maggie and I are serious. You know, romantically.”

The Godmother scowled. “You can do better than that, doctor. There’s still time to make a suitable match.”

“Enough with the insults. And it doesn’t even matter what you think of me and Maggie. I’m not going to marry some stranger.”

“Actually, you two are acquainted. I’m speaking of Greta, your manservant’s sister.”

“Greta? Does she even want to marry me?”

“I’m sure I can convince her of the advantages,” the Godmother said. “You boast a good profession, a fine house in town, and if the rumors are true, a pot of gold buried in your courtyard. That brother of hers could even move in without much disruption; he practically lives with you as it is.”

“Look,” Rob said, “I appreciate your interest in my well-being, but I’m not about to get married. Especially not to Greta, who’s barely half my age.”

“I understand your concerns, but I can’t have someone of your status unattached. Believe me when I say it will create chaos. Women from the lower classes will compete for your affections instead of marrying at their station, while princes will view you as a threat to our short supply of princesses. Chaos! I won’t have it, doctor. I simply won’t have you upsetting this town’s social structure.”

Rob leaned his head against the carriage’s sidewall and watched the world—this strange, fairy-tale world he’d been stranded in—roll away backwards into the distance. He’d known it wouldn’t be easy starting a modern medical practice here, but he hadn’t anticipated this hurdle. “I don’t know what ‘chaos’ you’re talking about,” he said, “and I’m not getting forced into marriage like this.”

“But you must,” the Godmother cut in, as if she were a parent disciplining a child. “Our guilds, our markets depend on stability, and right now you’re the opposite of that. You’re causing ripples, like a stone thrown into a pond. Taking a wife will go a long way toward calming those waters.”

“And if I refuse?”

“Driver!” the Godmother called out, rapping the roof with her metal pen. “Stop here!” Rob looked out the window and saw the town gate just ahead.

Rob turned back to face the Godmother. “If I refuse?” he asked again.

The Godmother fixed him with an iron stare. “If you refuse, you’ll find that no merchant will sell you meat, ale, fruit or vegetables. You’ll be allowed to purchase bread with any coins you beg, as your permission to practice medicine will be revoked. And I’ll watch you like a hawk, making sure these prohibitions are followed without exception, until you leave our town and never return. Am I understood?”

“For Christ’s sake, you’re insane!”

“And you are about to be married,” the Godmother said, a smile cracking her aged face. “My congratulations, doctor. You have until the end of the month—shall we say by the Harvest Grand Ball?—to settle on a bride, although I believe Greta would be an excellent choice.”

“Ridiculous!”

“I don’t disagree.” The Godmother opened the carriage door for Rob to exit. “But then I’m not the one stirring up trouble. Good day, doctor. I believe you know your way from here.”

Rob watched the carriage roll away, through the gate and into town. A member of the city watch whom Rob had helped with an ingrown toenail stood guard nearby. Rob could see that the guard still favored his other foot, but not as badly as before.

“Did I hear you’re getting married, sir?” the guard asked.

“That’s what the Godmother says, anyway.”

“Best wishes to you, then. Who’s the lucky lady?”

Rob slowly shook his head. “I don’t think lucky’s the right word.”