Page 70 of Best Hex Ever
The first piece of the exhibition was a brass statue of a dog, placed on a podium at waist height. The dog was curled up, its carved eyes closed, as if it was sound asleep. Most of the statue was a mottled brown color, apart from the dog’s snout, which was a shining brassy gold.
“How come that sign says you can touch the statue?” Dina asked. “I thought touching was strictly not permitted in museums.”
“Normally, yes, and this is the only piece you’re allowed to touch. This”—Scott reached out to pet the cold nose of the dog—“is Frank. Since 1874 he’s been sitting on the grave of his owner, James Smythe, who lived up in Inverness. James’s family had this statue of Frank created after the dog passed away, because after James died, Frank kept running away and they’d find him sleeping on his master’s grave.”
“That’s so sad, and so sweet.”
“Isn’t it? But then people visiting the cemetery would pet Frank’s nose as they visited their loved ones’ graves, and all toosoon Frank’s snout became an urban legend. It’s said that rubbing his snout brings you good luck.”
Dina reached out and stroked the brass dog’s nose.
“Thanks for the luck, Frank,” she said quietly.
They continued the tour of the exhibition. Scott let Dina lead the way mostly; when she showed interest in a specific object they’d pause and he’d tell her a little about how it came to be here.
“You know, I’ve been wondering something,” he said, as they looked through the glass at a carving of a jade dragon. “Can you tell if any of these artifacts are actually magical? Since I was a kid I’ve always wondered…always hoped that perhaps some lucky charms might really work.”
Dina scrunched up her face in a frown and looked at the jade dragon.
“It’s hard to know. There are so many different types of magic, and there’s a lot about them I don’t know. Take Frank, for example. Perhaps he didn’t start off as a magical object. But over the years, with every hopeful person rubbing his snout and wishing for good luck, who’s to say that all that wishing and all that hope didn’t turn into something real? But with some objects, like that one there”—Dina said, pointing to a Native American Zuni bear fetish (which some colonial settlers had “sold” to the British Museum back in the 1800s, in a dubious affair)—“that one holds strong magic. I can feel it even through the glass.”
They stood before the spotlit stand, looking down at the blue stone bear.
“What does it feel like?”
“Like someone found a way to contain all this wildness and power in stone. And I can smell pine and snow-tinged air, somehow.”
Scott sniffed the air, but whatever magic Dina was sensing wasn’t open to him.
“We think one of their spiritual practitioners would have carved this bear. The Zuni people believed that the spirit of the animal remains alive in the stone, and will help whoever possesses it. If the exhibition travels to the U.S., we would return the stone to its rightful home with the Museum of Indian Arts and Culture in Santa Fe.”
Dina looked up at him, her hand finding his.
“It’s incredible, what you’re doing. This whole exhibition is incredible.”
His heart swelled. But there was one more item he wanted to show her.
“Come this way,” he said. Tucked into a corner of the gallery was a nondescript exhibition cabinet. In it was a silver Amazigh amulet, taken from a village in the Atlas mountains.
“Is that—?”
“Yes. It’s Amazigh. Do you recognize the symbols?”
Dina leaned closer. She shook her head. “I wish I did.”
“The one on the top is the net-and-fish symbol. It’s a protective charm. The symbol below it is the weaving comb. It’s meant to represent fertility and creativity, but also balance. We think—though many of the details have been lost—that this was likely given as a part of a dowry, or as a proposal gift.”
“It’s beautiful,” she said, but Scott could see the sadness in her face reflected in the cabinet glass. He pulled her back so she was leaning against his chest.
“What’s wrong?” he murmured into her hair.
“It’s just that you know more about my own heritage than I do. I don’t even know the name of the Amazigh tribe we come from, though I’m not sure my mum does either. Sometimes I wonder what it would be like, if I knew more about my past. Are there other forms of magic tied to my history? Were theirwitches in my bloodline generations ago? Were they venerated as healers, or were they outcast? I just…It makes me sad to think about it.”
“I’m sorry, Dina. You know, I wonder…”
“What?”
“Well, there’s this map in the archives that shows all the Amazigh tribes in Morocco and where they were located. It’s from the 1800s so it may be outdated, but we could use it to find out what tribe you come from.”
