Encanzo and Looter ought to have been less amazed, because space and time can work in a mysterious and unexpected way in the Wizard world, particularly where doors are concerned. But the truth is, you never quite get used to it when it takes you by surprise like this.
And it is impossible to explain quite how this worked in human physical terms, but Madam Perdita was in a hurry, and she just wanted to get these two people together as quickly as possible, so the old door trick was the quickest way to do it.
Neither Encanzo nor Sychorax were even remotely pleased to see each other.
“You…” hissed Queen Sychorax.
“You!!!” spat King Encanzo.
There was always a little hiss or a frizzle in the atmosphere when these two met, a sort of jarring in the universe more noticeable on the outside than on the in, but if it were possible for the air to suddenly darken as if internal thunderclouds were gathering, then it did, and a couple of the candles blew out, just like that. Pffft.
Encanzo was particularly irritated to find himself confronted by his old enemy when he was in such an undignified condition, shirt raked to ribbons by Witches’ talons, one side of his face blasted by Witch lightning. He adjusted the ruins of his waistcoat, as if that was going to make any difference, and straightened up to his most majestic and magnificent height.
BAM!
To both the monarchs’ surprise, the actual door to Queen Sychorax’s room now opened on the other side of the room, and in ran the owner of the harassed voice Encanzo had heard a couple of minutes earlier. Perdita was looking, if anything, even more ragged and frazzled than Encanzo, with five pairs of spectacles crawling all over her, several bits of clothing on back to front, Witch burns on her face and what appeared to be bits of food in her hair.
“Yes, yes, yes, we’re going to have to be quick here. This isn’t a good time for visitors!” snapped Madam Perdita. “I’m containing a Witch attack, and then I have to get back to rather a complicated recipe for the young people’s supper…”
“Who ARE you?” demanded Encanzo. “If you’re supposed to be containing a Witch attack, you’re not doing a very good job of it! You are facing a sustained assault by the forces of dark Magic and I need to speak to the head of the learning place, not the cook!”
“I just told you, the Witch attack is completely under control, and I AM the head of the learning place! The head of the learning place should always be the cook; it’s the most important job,” explained Perdita.
“Well, I am King Encanzo, King of Wizards,” said Encanzo fiercely, “and—”
“Yes, yes,” interrupted Madam Perdita impatiently. “I know who you are, and you are bringing your son Looter to be a pupil here, because you think he’s spectacularly gifted. Run along through that door there, Looter, dear, you’re admitted…”
Looter goggled at her.
He was used to being the most important person in his father’s and everyone else’s life, not swept out of the way as if he were nothing.
“Do you not realize who you are speaking to?” said Encanzo sharply. “This is my eldest son, who will be the next King of Wizards, so you are incredibly lucky to have the honor of schooling him.”
“Quick, quick,” said Madam Perdita, not obviously impressed, “you’re a bit in the way at the moment, Looter, but I’m sure you’ll make a lovely, spectacularly gifted Wizard. Just step through the door and ask the pixies to take you to the infirmary, to have a look at those Witch burns you have on your arm, and then to the head of year, Ivy.* She’ll look after you.”
Almost as if hypnotized, Looter moved toward the door of the room, opened it, stepped through, and the door shut after him.
A little chorus of excitable pixy voices came floating through the door. The little voices sounded somewhat dubious.
“WELCOME, largeverypleasedwithyourselfboywhothinkshe’ssocleverandusedtobeaGraxerturgleburkinandwhoisusedtotellingeveryonewhattodo! WELCOME to your marvelous… magnificent… magical new ho-o-ome!”
“Mff,” sniffed Madam Perdita thoughtfully. “Looter’s spectacular gifts aren’t immediately apparent, but I’m sure we will find them, we always do… Now,” she said briskly, “I understand, Encanzo, you are also here to collect your other son, the one who is spectacularly cursed?”
“You knew about that?” said Encanzo, trying to regain control of the situation.
“You’re too late,” said Madam Perdita.
With a wink of Madam Perdita’s eye, she released Queen Sychorax’s hand from the desk. Queen Sychorax leaped to her feet.
“Do sit down,” said Madam Perdita.
“I prefer to stand,” said Queen Sychorax.
“As do I,” said King Encanzo.
“As you wish,” said Madam Perdita.
She snapped her fingers. A chair ran toward her. She sat down.
Both Encanzo and Sychorax regretted saying they would stand because suddenly it felt like Perdita was the royalty, sitting on her throne, even with bits of food in her hair, and they were the naughty children who had been sent to the head.
“You don’t mind if I knit? It helps me to concentrate,” said Madam Perdita. One knitting needle pushed its way through the keyhole of the cupboard and flew into Madam Perdita’s left hand. The other knitting needle pushed its way through the keyhole of the door, and flew into Madam Perdita’s right hand.
Madam Perdita began to knit, unraveling her own scarf as she went and using it as the wool.
“You, Sychorax and Encanzo, have a little explaining to do,” said Madam Perdita, and now she sounded very grim indeed. “You are too late to catch your children. They and their bodyguard have gone to see the Nuckalavee.”
Both Sychorax and Encanzo whitened in horror.
“And you let them?” gasped Sychorax.
“But that’s like sending them to their deaths!” said Encanzo. “Why did you not keep them here?”
“This is a learning place, not a prison,” said Perdita, knitting away merrily. “Although both you and Sychorax seem very fond of locking your children up.”
Now Sychorax and Encanzo went from white to red with embarrassment.
“I had no choice!” said Encanzo. “You said so yourself! Xar is spectacularly cursed!”
“As is Wish!” said Sychorax.
“Then uncurse them,” said Perdita.
“There’s no such thing as uncursing,” said Encanzo.
“The young people seem to think so,” said Perdita. “Which is why they are off to find the ingredients of the spell to get rid of Witches.”
“Wish fulfillment,” said Sychorax.
“Child’s play,” said Encanzo.
“And dangerous child’s play, at that,” said Sychorax. “Listen to the sound of those creatures out there! You’ve exposed our children to the Witches who are hunting them…”
“Perhaps,” said Perdita. “But the young people are in grave danger already, and you do not seem to be helping them with that so far.”
Both Encanzo and Sychorax turned redder.
“I’ve very much enjoyed getting to know your children over the past few months,” said Perdita, continuing to knit. “It seems to me that the reason that Xar got the Witch-stain in the first place is that he was so desperate not to let his father down by having no Magic at all, that he was prepared to go to extreme lengths to get just a little approval.”
“You can’t blame ME for this!” growled Encanzo.
“Have you noticed,” said Perdita, “that the more you tell Xar off, the more disobedient he becomes?”
Encanzo was silent.
“And as for Wish, I have never met a child with Magic as powerful as she has, but she seems to think, Queen Sychorax, that you, her own mother, are ashamed of her,” said Perdita.
“Am I supposed to be PROUD of a daughter with such cursed magical skills?” stormed Queen Sychorax. “She’s an embarrassment. How dare you tell us what to do? We know best, for we are the children’s parents!”
“And how do you
think your parenting is going so far?” asked Perdita sweetly.
There was an uncomfortable silence inside the study.
Outside, the screaming of the Witches seemed to be underlining that the answer to that question was: Not very WELL, actually, since you mention it.
“We’re doing our best!” protested Encanzo. “Being a parent is not as easy as it looks!”
“That, at least, is true,” admitted Perdita. “Very well then, if you want to stop them, you’re going to have to catch them. Which is why I brought you together. That, and showing you, Sychorax, what a real learning place ought to be like.” Perdita seemed amused about something. “Did you think I did not see through the Madam Clairvoy disguise? Of course I did… I just thought you might learn something from being in Pook’s Hill.”
“This is a ridiculous place!” raged Sychorax. “Children being taught by birds! Lessons in tree climbing! I am the only person in this entire establishment teaching anything sensible…”
“But the children are happy,” said Madam Perdita. “What should they be learning, Sychorax? How to burn down a forest? However, if you haven’t learned anything, never mind. I could be wrong, of course, there’s always that possibility.”
Madam Perdita considered that improbable possibility for one interested moment, and then rejected it.
“No,” said Perdita briskly, “no, I’m not wrong.”
As Madam Perdita was talking, Sychorax suddenly realized that along with a bit of rug from the floor, the edges of Sychorax’s own cloak were unraveling themselves and being knitted into Perdita’s knitting, along with little pieces of Encanzo’s shirt. “What on earth are you doing?” snapped Sychorax, trying to wrench her cloak away, but it held surprisingly fast.
Encanzo looked amused, but said, “Stop that, Madam Perdita.”
“Oh, I do apologize,” said Madam Perdita, “this is a very bad habit of mine…”
A little pair of bronze scissors hopped out of her pocket, danced up to the pieces of thread, and snipped them apart. Snip, snip.
“Now I brought you together, for you both want the same thing, do you not? You want to catch your children, so catch them if you can. They have gone to find the Nuckalavee, so you can follow them and find them, the two of you, alone… For neither of you want anyone to know the secrets of your past, do you? You’d rather that the Wizards and the Warriors did not find out that you were once in love and that that is the reason that Wish has been born with Magic-mixed-with-iron?”
“It is best if we keep this to ourselves,” admitted Sychorax.
“Just one other reason that the predicament the young people find themselves in may be more YOUR fault than their own…” Perdita reminded them.
Sychorax’s hands were in fists. Normally nobody tells the truth to queens, and she wasn’t enjoying the experience. But what could she do? This was Madam Perdita’s territory. She had to bide her time and wait for revenge.
“Encanzo knows where the Nuckalavee can be found, don’t you, Encanzo?” said Madam Perdita.
“I do,” said Encanzo. “The Nuckalavee was part of my shadow quest, after you abandoned me, Sychorax,” said Encanzo. “I nearly never came back.”
“A quest where you gave the Nuckalavee your heart,” said Perdita, in her coziest voice.
“You gave the Nuckalavee your heart?” said Sychorax, forgetting her fury at Perdita for a moment and raising one eyebrow at Encanzo.
“Well, what was I supposed to do with it after you had stomped all over it?” said Encanzo bitterly. “I couldn’t go on living with a broken heart. It was very inconvenient—the edges of it were all uncomfortable in my chest. I had to get on with my life, live and love again…”
“So the two of you can go together,” said Perdita, getting up. “With absolutely no chance of either of you catching any of that nasty love disease again. One without a heart. The other having drunk the Spell of Love Denied. No risk whatsoever, I would say.”
“We’re free to go?” said Encanzo.
“Of course you’re free to go!” said Perdita, extremely exasperated. “I don’t know WHY everyone keeps saying that! This is a learning place, not a prison. I may not agree with your methods of child-rearing, but they are, after all, your children. It sounds like the Witch attack is now under control.”
The sound of the screaming outside had indeed died down somewhat.
“But I would recommend invisibility, nonetheless,” Perdita advised, “and suggest you leave by the cupboard door, thereby avoiding the pixies. Or better still, the trapdoor. I have Witchblood to clean up and a recipe to finish. Off you go!”
15. The Chase
Meanwhile, Bodkin had left Pook’s Hill by the western entrance. It was lucky that he was still in the body of Xar, for it meant that he could use Xar’s powers and make himself invisible. He had a piece of map torn from the Spelling Book, and it said the Isle of the Nuckalavee was opposite somewhere called the Beach of Shoes, and that was to the west.
Bodkin had a slight setback when he saw the huge dark outlines of the Witches roosting in the treetops above him, like gigantic crows. Even though he knew they couldn’t see him, he passed out on the back of Nighteye. When he woke up again a few seconds later, he was so rigid with fear, his hands clutching Nighteye’s fur hadn’t even unclenched. Looking back over his shoulder as Nighteye ran on, he could see that the Witches were still unmoving.
After a while, when it seemed clear that he wasn’t being followed, he stopped Nighteye and turned himself visible again, for he didn’t know how long he would continue to inhabit the body of Xar, and when he was back in his own body, he wouldn’t have any magical powers at all. Even the staff that Perdita had given him was with Xar now, so he couldn’t use that. Not that “sticking things to other things” was likely to be all that useful when you were facing what must be the terrible nightmare of the Nuckalavee…
I have the sword, though! I can use the sword, thought Bodkin with excitement. As he rode on, he was still elated at leaving the school without being discovered.
I’ll show Wish what a hero I can be… I’ve betrayed her, but now I will prove myself.
But then there was a dreadful scream behind him, which was the sound of the triumphant Witches discovering the hole in the Magic that Bodkin had made when he took the iron Enchanted Sword out of Pook’s Hill. In terror, Bodkin thought it might be the Witches coming after him. He urged Nighteye on, on. He had entered a bit of the forest that had been scorched to the ground by Sychorax’s wildfire, so the burned landscape was depressing. And by the time he found a place to sleep for the night, the enormity of what he had done was beginning to creep over him.
He shivered under brambles, trying to get to sleep on a cold, cold night, hugging as close as he could to Nighteye in the hope of getting some warmth. The snowcat’s fur was soaked through. Her tail was in a puddle. Bodkin cried himself to sleep.
Xar and Wish left from the western entrance about an hour after Bodkin. They also escaped without apparently being detected by the Witches, who were now attacking Encanzo and Looter on the other side of Pook’s Hill. On and away they flew on the back of the Enchanted Door, just above the level of the undergrowth, following the very faint noise of the running snowcats and wolves, who were panting with fear as they ran through the burned forest. Wish and Xar looked over their shoulders every two or three minutes to check that they were not being pursued by Witches.
To Wish’s intense relief, the snowcats following the traces of Bodkin’s path were heading farther and farther west. So Bodkin must have gotten away without the Witches seeing him, thought Wish jubilantly.
After a while, they felt confident that they were far enough away to turn themselves visible again. And Xar let Squeezjoos out of his pocket. The little sprite was recovered from the odd attacks that seemed to beset him when he was too close to Witches, but he was terribly upset. “Why dids you shut me up?” asked Squeezjoos.
“It was for your own good, Squeezjoos,” s
aid Xar. “You have to trust me. I know best.”
Squeezjoos could not stay cross with Xar for long. He looked into Xar’s eyes and licked him on the face. “It’s true!” said Squeezjoos. “You DOESSS know best!”
Eventually they were too tired to go any farther.
Squeezjoos was so exhausted that he actually crawled back into Xar’s pocket and did up the buttons himself. Lonesome had a thorn in his paw and was limping.
“We need to sleep,” said Xar. “Daytime is a better time for traveling anyway—less chance of Witches. We’ll catch up with Bodkin and Nighteye tomorrow.” Xar was in a belligerent mood, exhilarated to be back on their quest again, but still oddly cross with Perdita for letting them go. “Nobody wants us, even her, but we can do this on our own.”
Talking about Perdita made him look in his pocket for the thing that she had given him just before he left. It was one of her handkerchiefs, wrapped tightly around something in a little bottle, and when he unwound it, out fell…
“The Droods’ tears!” gasped Caliburn. “The fifth ingredient in the spell to get rid of Witches!”
Sure enough, there were five shining tears of the Drood from the Lake of the Lost, gleaming like dark diamonds in the center of the bottle.
“My sister trusts me again!” said Caliburn. “Even though I made a mistake last time!”
“She trusts me too!” said Xar, all his ill humor disappearing. “Even though I have the Witch-stain.”
“There’s a note,” said Wish, picking up a piece of paper that had been wrapped around the bottle along with the handkerchief.
The note was in Perdita’s handwriting and read:
“Maybe we did belong in Pook’s Hill, after all,” said Xar. He tied Perdita’s handkerchief around his arm with the Witch-stain. “If I ever wanted a mother—and I don’t,” he added hurriedly, “I would choose a mother like Perdita.”
Perdita’s present made them all feel more cheerful. They were progressing in their quest. If they had been successful in getting four of the ingredients, surely they could win the last one and save Bodkin at the same time?
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