Yuli crouched in a corner of the cabin and watched as his mistress rocked by the fireplace, chanting softly beneath her breath as she worked on a charm, pausing now and again to gently stroke her swollen belly.
The firelight didn't reflect off the tiny imp's flat black eyes as he peered at the bundle of cloth, herbs, bone and twine in her hands. He didn't recognize the charm she was making. Once, she would have needed his help with the charm, would've sent him into the forest to fetch herbs for her, perhaps asked him to stir the cookpot while she spoke the Dark Words. What else was a familiar for? But ever since her belly had begun to grow large, she'd taken to working her spells by herself, leaving Yuli with nothing do but watch and worry.
Yuli took his gray-scaled tail in his mouth and gnawed on it. He was concerned about his mistress, was afraid she was sick. One time a farmer had bought a fertility potion for his cows from her and promised to pay with three calves come spring. The potion worked, but the farmer refused to pay what he owed. In return, Yuli's mistress had cast a spell on the man's cattle, causing their stomachs to swell with obscene growths until finally they burst and the animals died. Yuli was afraid something similar was happening to his mistress now. But she didn't seem frightened.
Instead, she appeared quite happy. It was too much for the little imp to understand.
Yuli left his corner and scuttled across the dirt floor to his mistress and crouched at her bare feet. At six inches in height, he reached only a little higher than her ankle. Yuli looked up at his mistress and his tiny black heart was filled with love for her. Although she was quite old as he understood humans reckoned time, she still possessed the aspect of a young, beautiful woman. Her hair was a thick and lustrous ebony and fell down the back of the rocking chair almost all the way to the floor. She was wrapped in a diaphanous gown of silky green which stirred as if caught in some sourceless breeze.
Yuli tugged at his mistress' foot, trying to get her attention. When she didn't look down, he went behind the rocker and gripped her hair with two tiny paws and climbed quickly and dexterously to the top of her head, where he perched like a miniature gargoyle. He looked down at the charm that busied his mistress' hands and made a soft, querying bleat.
"It's just a bit of magic, Yuli," Amaia said in her warm honey voice. "For the baby."
Ba-bee. Yuli did not know this word. He decided it must be the name of the sickness that had infected his mistress. Ba-bee. It had a sinister sound. He was glad Amaia was working on a cure.
His mistress had first taken ill after the dark man left. The dark man had come to her one night last summer, and they had spent much time together, walking, talking, and lying together in his mistress' bed. Yuli hadn't liked the dark man's intrusion into his and Amaia's world, but his mistress was happy and so he tolerated the interloper.
Then one day the dark man left, on biz-ness, whatever that was, for the Fell Ones, and he hadn't returned, which suited Yuli just fine. Soon after, his mistress took sick with the growth. Yuli thought the dark man had really been a warlock who, before leaving, had cursed Amaia with this strange sickness, this Ba-bee. It didn't matter, though. No matter how strong the warlock's magic was, Yuli knew his mistress' was stronger.
He leaned down over her forehead, holding onto a handful of hair for balance, and sent forth a stream of mocking chatter directed at the horrid growth, gloating over its imminent demise.
"Hush, now, Yuli. You'll give me a headache."
Yuli hastened to obey. He curled up atop his mistress' head, snuggled into her soft-soft hair and closed his eyes, content. Soon she would be well again and everything would be back to normal.
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