Lilith and the witches said no.
So then they asked if it’d be okay to move a coven of witches out of East Ernost in order to gain access to just one single, very small grove of broombranch trees.
Lilith and the witches said no.
Then they said they’d ask the trees directly if they’d be okay with it.
The trees, obviously, said no.
So the wizards removed Lilith from the High Council and passed a bunch of laws that let them do all of that anyway.
There are some outside of the High Council who might have called what they did a “declaration of war.”
Unbeknownst to Milly, she now sat across the room from the seat Lilith used to sit in. Unlike Lilith, however, Milly was no experienced witch. She had no understanding of legalese. She didn’t have the trees on her side. She didn’t even know most rudimentary magicks.
She did, however, have a ferocious desire to get her sister back and hoped that would be enough to carry her through this.
(Spoiler alert: It wouldn’t.)
CHAPTER TWENTY
how many gnomes does it take to run an effective government?
The answer is six hundred forty-two and three-quarters. Some may say that’s too many. I argue that that’s far too few. Either way, this council had about seventeen. Which, I hope you agree, is undoubtedly inadequate.
Milly sat and listened as the gnomes interrupted each other’s interruptions. Finnegan sat in a chair next to Milly and translated events as they unfolded.
“The ones on the left are the pro-witch party,” Finnegan said.
“We have a party?”
“This week you do. I’m sure the parties will change once they find a new issue to argue over.”
Five gnomes and two humans argued for a complete reinstatement of the witches. They argued that the shadows had technically come after the witches vanished, and that the witches had been wrongly outlawed after the war, and that even if they had been the problem, they had by now surely learned their lesson. Besides, one of them said, what did they have to be scared of? It’s not like any witch would be brave enough to defy them again. The last person seated on their side of the room, a strange antler-headed creature with very long limbs, remained silent.
“That’s Venykk. Apparently, he used to be friends with Lilith. There have been many attempts to take him off the council.”
The seven gnomes on the right side argued for continued banishment—or, in the case of the oldest one, total eradication. (“That there’s Piddippin. Most of the gnomes on the right side consider his views too harsh, but no one will admit it if it means losing his vote.”) They also complained about the proposition of a vote when they were missing a member of their council.
“It’s kind of funny. As soon as Hightop went missing, council members who’d been dragging their feet all of a sudden wanted a vote.”
All the meanwhile, an incredibly short gnome with an incredibly long beard sat at the very end of the room listening to each side.
“Grandmaster Mulligan. He may not get to vote, but in the end, whatever he says goes.”
As they listened, Milly heard the arguments on the left begin to break apart and warp. They went from arguing for complete reinstatement of witches to a partial, really heartfelt apology to “maybe sending a gift basket.” Who would they send the gift basket to? Who knows! At one point, one of the humans even recommended not calling them witches at all. “Why not let them practice their magicks and have them call it something else?”
“What’s the point? They’d still be witches!”
“It was just a thought . . .”
Another from the right side squared his shoulders. “I think we all need to take into account this North Wind situation! He’s gone missing. How do we know it’s not the fault of a witch?!”
One of the pro-witch gnomes pointed at Milly. “Maybe we should ask her!”
“Ask her?” Piddippin scoffed. “What could a little girl possibly have to say about politicks? She couldn’t even tame her own broombranch.”
Milly imagined a furious Ash rustling his leaves furiously. The idea made her grin.
“What are you smiling at?!”
Milly opened her mouth as if to answer, but then pointed at her own mouth and shook her head.
That only seemed to make the gnome madder.
“Friends.” The chamber quieted when Venykk spoke. His voice sounded like the arrival of an autumn wind creaking the door open. “I believe it is in our best collective interest to at least ask the girl her name. At this point, she is not a witch. She is a person, and we are discussing her future. So long as the child abides by our chamber’s rules, I offer her permission. Let her speak.” He turned his gaze all around the room, but none of the others dared look him in the eye. Finally, he turned to Mulligan, who nodded.
Venykk turned toward Milly and dipped his mighty head. “The floor is yours, child.”
Milly gulped, but her mouth was dry. She hadn’t been ready for this.
Finnegan whispered. “Stand up and present yourself. And don’t show any emotion. They won’t take anything you say seriously if you show emotion.”
No emotion? What had this entire meeting been but a boiling pot of emotions?
“You got this,” Jasper said. “You’re a witch. They won’t say so, but deep down they’re afraid of you. They’re afraid of your truth. Say what you need to say.”
“Well, get on with it, then!” The voice of the gnome was very familiar.
Milly locked eyes with the gnome who spoke and realized why. It was the gnome who’d once berated Horace’s mother. She narrowed her eyes.
“High Council.” Her voice was swallowed up by the room.
“Speak louder!” Piddippin said.
“High Council!” Milly said, too loudly this time, and paused as her voice bounced around the room. One of the gnomes snickered but stopped when Venykk stared at him.*
“My name is Milly. And I am a witch.”
“Don’t look like much, does she?”
“Let her speak,” Venykk said, silencing their chatter. He then turned toward Milly. “Tree-friend, why are you here?”
Milly took a deep breath and took off her glove. The white mark flooded the room with its light. “I am a witch from West Ernost, and I’m hunting down the person who stole my sister. Lilith.”
The room didn’t react at first with anything but shock, then one of the gnomes started to cackle. It set off a chain reaction of laughter bouncing in the halls. One of Mulligan’s stern eyes widened.
“She thinks a dead woman stole her sister!”
“Maybe it’s Lilith’s ghost.”
“You scared of ghosts, little witch?”
Finnegan let out a long, deep sigh.
“I’m telling the truth,” Milly said amidst their noise. “I don’t care what way this vote goes. All I know is I can’t stop being a witch, no matter what your laws say or whatever you decide to call me. I was born with magicks. In fact, I like being a witch.” She paused to feel the weight of her next words. “But I would gladly give that all up if I could just have my sister back.”
Mulligan stood from his chair, quieting the other gnomes. “Little girl, you do realize we are voting on whether or not to allow witches back into the world, yes? You realize that these statements, false though they be, indict your own kind?”
Milly felt her chin quiver but nodded anyway.
Mulligan chuckled and sat back down. “Well, I think we’ve heard enough. Shall we put it to a vote, then?”
The doors blew open, and a cold wind filled the halls. A ragged figure stood in the doorway and an angry voice bellowed out from the man.
“How dare this council vote without me?!”
It was Hightop.
Milly immediately sat back down. The wiz
ard staggered into the center of the room, not even seeming to realize that Milly or Horace were there.
“I told you to wait until my witch relocation project had finished!”
Finnegan stood up and put his hands out placatingly. “Now, Hightop, we haven’t voted just yet—”
“But you were ready to.”
“I did what I could to stop them,” the young toe-thwacking gnome said.
“Shut up, Chaddigan.”
Mulligan sighed. “Take your seat, Hightop.”
“No,” Hightop snapped. “I have things to say. The old hag is back, and she’s stolen a little girl! We can’t vote on this until—”
“Take. Your. Seat.”
Hightop’s jaw snapped shut, and he stomped over to his seat. One of the other gnomes tried to whisper to him, but Hightop shook him off. When he did, he locked eyes with Milly.
Something like confused rage filled his gray eyes. But only for a second. He forced himself to smile before he pointedly looked away.
Milly whispered down to Jasper. “Do his eyes . . . remind you of someone?”
“A little bit, yeah. Kind of like . . .”
“Lilith.”
“Finnegan,” Mulligan said. “Please escort our guests outside while we finalize this vote.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
the secrets of a fyin boomsick
Many hours later, Finnegan paced back and forth while Milly, Horace, and Jasper sat watching.
“I wonder what’s happening in there,” he said to himself.
“Truly, a mystery to us all,” Jasper said.
“They sure are taking their time.” He glanced at the door. “Can’t believe I’m stuck watching children.”
Finnegan didn’t seem to notice them, or care if he did. He continued walking back and forth.
“Hey!” Jasper skittered out of the way when the gnome turned around. “Watch the tail.”
Milly looked from Horace to Jasper. “He does have a point. They’re taking a long time.”
Horace tilted his head.
“Maybe we could find something to do while waiting,” Jasper said. “Look around or something.”
“We might even find clues about Lilith’s whereabouts.”
“What?” Finnegan finally stopped in his tracks. “No no no, we have to wait here.”
“You have to wait here,” Jasper said. “I used to be free to go anywhere I wanted. Waitaminute!” Jasper laughed. “I’m a cat. I’m still free to go anywhere I want.” He winked at Milly. “As soon as I run, you run.”
“Wait, what?”
“Bye!” Jasper bit the gnome’s ankle and ran down a hallway.
“Yowch!” Finnegan jumped in the air and rubbed his ankle. “What on—hey! Come back!”
Jasper jumped over a bookcase and knocked some of its material onto the floor. “Oops,” he said, and kneaded the pages.
Finnegan pulled his hat off his head and wrinkled it in his hands. “Don’t—no! Those are very valuable!”
Jasper turned the corner, and they heard a loud crash, followed by someone shouting.
Finnegan ran after the cat, turned back halfway, and said, “Please don’t go anywhere!” then turned back round again and followed Jasper round the corner.
Milly and Horace heard more screaming and crashing bookcases. They locked eyes with each other, then hopped out of their seats and discreetly headed the opposite direction.
They ducked around a corner on the opposite side and found themselves at the bottom of a vast circular courtyard. Above them, the sky was churning with the beginnings of a storm.
Milly hadn’t been able to see much of the castle on her way in, since the gnomes ushered her to the High Council’s chamber as soon as they could, but now that she could see the castle, she gasped at how much bigger it was than she’d thought it could be.
A large winding staircase wrapped around the entire courtyard, each stone step almost the size of Milly. A second, smaller set of steps had been carved into the middle of the first. They were a different color than the first, polished and white.
Horace pointed at the big steps. “Stone people.” He pointed at the smaller steps. “Grass people.”
Round half rooms lined the winding staircase, protruding from the building. Glass walls contained the people inside the rooms, like flies trapped in giant dewdrops. Most of the rooms closest to the ground floor held clusters of gnome wizards in them. Banners atop the rooms said Pointy Hats in embroidered gold all the way up till the top floor of the cloud castle. There was nothing to read on the last floor.
“What are those?” Milly said, squinting.
“Witch rooms,” Horace replied.
“What do you mean, ‘which’ rooms? Those ones right there.”
The half-giant shook his head. “No. Witch rooms.”
Milly looked back and forth, but none of the dozens of wizards scurrying around seemed to care that she and Horace were walking about. So she just . . . walked to the stairs.
“Come on,” she said. “Let’s see what’s up there.”
The two of them worked their way up the stairs. Some of the rooms they passed were crammed full of gnomes surrounded by paperwork, arguing as feathers and ink danced in the air above them, recording every word they said. Another room held a woman surrounded by bottles as she tried to brew something in the pot beside her. The next showcased two wizards in riding stocks, training broomsticks to do tricks. Milly flinched and looked away until they got to the top.
Up here, the bubble rooms had been shattered, and the banners—written not in gold, but etched directly into the stonework—had been clawed off.
The last room, at the very end of the staircase, still had some of its letters left. Just enough for Milly to figure out what it used to say.
F yin B ooms icks
“You were right. These used to be witch rooms.” Milly tiptoed over the shattered walls and looked around. The room had been mostly cleaned out, but not very well. Debris still cluttered the floors and a large table sat in the middle. “See anything?”
Horace followed her in, crouching down to avoid whatever was left of the ceiling. “Lilith?” he asked, pointing at a picture frame left on the floor.
Milly gently picked it up and wiped off the dust with her sleeve. It was Lilith. The picture had faded, but it was still richer in color than she expected. The older witch sat in a simple chair with a young boy on her lap. She didn’t look quite as scary in this photograph. In fact, she was even smiling. The boy’s face, however, was missing. Someone had burned a rough hole through it. Whoever it was must have not wanted him to be recognized.
“Who is boy?” Horace said, peeking over her shoulder.
“I don’t know,” she said. She flipped the picture over and saw scribbles on the corner.
It read Lilith and Carlos, East Ernost.
“Carlos?”
“Always snooping, I see.”
Milly and Horace spun around at the sound of the voice. They saw Hightop standing at the top of the stairs.
He smiled at them disarmingly. “No matter. Finnegan thought he’d lost you two, but I knew you couldn’t have possibly left the building. Too many things to poke for that curious bug in your head! Did you find anything interesting?”
Milly held the picture behind her back and shrugged her shoulders. “Not really.”
“That’s too bad.” Hightop shook his head. “We’re ready to finalize the vote. Told them I’d come get you two in case you wanted to see how it went.”
Milly narrowed her eyes. She didn’t see anyone else with the wizard. This was the time to ask questions.
“Where’s Lilith?” she said.
Hightop’s eyebrow quirked. “Why should I know anything about—”
“Earlier. In the room. You said that an old w
itch had stolen a little girl. Who else could it be except Lilith?”
One of Hightop’s fingers quivered, but he quickly regained composure and sighed. “Look. I know I said I’d help you find your sister, but I have other important things to do right now. If you don’t mind stepping along, we can—”
“No.” Milly said.
“Little girl. There is important—”
“No!” The word was starting to taste good on her tongue. Milly felt her hand burn beneath the glove, like her anger wanted to burst the seams. It was a more powerful feeling than any magicks she’d ever felt. “You tricked me into killing the forest. You’re the reason Edaline’s . . .” She took a breath. “Lilith stole my sister again, and it’s your fault. What do you know?”
Hightop eyed her with a mysterious look. “Do you really think you can stop the old hag? Your own kind?”
“I—I have to try,” Milly stuttered. She knew she couldn’t.
Hightop laughed. Hard. “Spoken like a true witchling.” He cleared his throat and lowered his voice. “Very well, I’ll tell you what I know. She’s planning on taking your sister to the Rift. Their home, I suppose. Some ritual involving these gripes and gobblers. Maybe if you catch up to her, you can tell her the truth. Make her realize she’s about to sacrifice the wrong little girl.”
Milly couldn’t believe her ears. “Why would she do that? Does she really think the shadows and witches are connected?”
“Maybe she’s gone mad. Or maybe—” He paused to narrow his eyes. “Maybe she feels shame. Maybe she knows witches don’t belong in this world anymore.”
Milly felt a cold lump fill her stomach, but she didn’t show it. “That doesn’t make any sense.” She didn’t really trust the witch, but what Hightop was saying didn’t sound quite like the truth either.
“Why council not do anything?” Horace asked.
“About the witches?” He scoffed. “You’ve seen them. Gotten too scared to make the right decisions. Besides, it seems your little display made quite the impression. I don’t think any of them realize quite how dangerous you are, little one. But I do.”
The Hungry Ghosts Page 17