“No,” he gasped. “That is too terrible. Surely not even you…”
“Sixteen years is longer than many worthy parents keep their children.” She spoke mildly but there was iron in her gaze. “You will either take a child to keep until she is sixteen, or you will have no child at all.”
He opened his mouth to protest, but she raised her hand, palm out. “Surely even a merchant must remember the old tales; surely even you must know that the gift of Faery always has drawbacks. No; I will not change my mind. Choose.”
He sat in agonized thought for long moments. Finally, he said, sounding nearly as old as Mother Shadow herself, “Would…would she be in pain? At the…end?”
Mother Shadow shook her wizened head. “No; in fact, I will be merciful. It will be a mere prick of a needle that ends her life. A single drop of blood is all it will take.”
He thought again; it was no easy decision. Eternity seemed to pass. Then: “I will have my sixteen-years’ daughter. I will take future grief for the sake of present joy.”