Lavender-Green Magic

by Andre Norton

  “Aye, poppet, thou shalt know.” Hagar nodded. “But such knowledge comes not all in one moment or the next, mind thee. It grows as does a seed placed in soil which pleases it best.”

  “Are you really Tamar’s sister?” Holly was not quite sure why she asked that question, or why Hagar’s answer had importance. She only felt that it did.

  “Thou hast doubts? Why? Because she be so plain of face and I be the comely one?” Hagar raised her hand to fluff the curls on her forehead. “Because she be older, and I young? But it be so—we be of one blood. Of one learning also—with powers. But now I tell to thee a small secret, poppet.” She was smiling, her green eyes sparkling as if they were not eyes at all but glittering stones. “Aye, a secret, do and undo—she be not as wise or strong as she hopes, my dear sister. What she may do—that can I undo, as easily as I so snap this.” She had picked up a long twig from the table top. Between her fingers it broke with a crack that somehow sounded very loud in the room. “What she would build, that shall I also bring to naught. Nay, rather thou and I together, poppet.”

  “Tamar—she was kind—” Again Holly did not know why she said that. But the words awoke in her a memory. Tamar—she had come here to warn Tamar of Sexton Dims dale’s plan! But if those men came to burn the witch house, they would also be enemies of Hagar.

  “Listen—” Holly leaned forward against the table. Now that she remembered, she was doubly eager to give her warning. “Back there, where I—we—come from, they said that on Halloween Master Dimsdale and some other men, they came to burn down this house—kill Tamar—you—”

  Hagar had not been mentioned in Grandma’s story, but she was in just as much danger if she lived here.

  “Back there, from whence thou comest—” said Hagar slowly. She either did not believe Holly, or else some other thought was more important to her now. “From whence dost thou come, poppet? . . . Aye, through the dream maze did I find thee. But I knew not the place in which thou wert, only that thou hadst worked the charm to open the gate between us. Now—tell me of thy world!”

  She once more fixed Holly with her eyes—she might be seeing straight into Holly’s mind, so direct and searching was that stare.

  “It—it’s different in time—I think.” Holly added those last two words because she was honestly not sure. “It’s nineteen-seventy in my world.”

  “Nineteen-seventy,” repeated Hagar. She pushed aside the plate before her, dipped her fingertip in the liquid still in her tankard, and began to draw lines on the wooden table top, her head bent a little as she studied them with the same searching as that she had used when she had asked the answer from Holly. “So be it!” she said at last. “A different time. But tell me more—much more!”

  Holly tried, but how could you tell all about the Dimsdale that was now, the world that was now? Such telling could take days—

  “Dimsdale ruined, used to hold the castoffs.” Hagar laughed. “What might Master Sexton say to that now? A good ending for a pride-filled man! But this world of thine—much has changed, that I can see. Only people, within them they do not change. And with people will I deal, with thy good help, poppet. Thou hast told me of trouble to come, and for that I am in thy debt. But when that trouble comes—Hagar shall not be here! Well did I judge to summon thee.”

  “But Tamar—” Holly ventured.

  “Tamar?” Again Hagar laughed. “Did I not say that she also has power—of a sort. A pale shadow to the power she might hold were she of a braver heart. Let her fend for herself, as I shall do in my own behalf. I look forward to seeing with my own two eyes, poppet, this strange world of thine.”

  “You mean—you’ll come back with us?” Holly was surprised and again uneasy. She did not see how they were going to explain Hagar if she did choose to come. And somehow she did not want that to happen. Hagar—Tamar—they were part of something which, she suspected, should not be mixed with the real world, the safe world of the barnhouse, of Mom and Grandpa and Grandma, of school and—well, just everything Holly had always known.

  “Now that I cannot yet do, poppet. There must be a gathering of power. But safe I can be here, by thy aid. And the warning thou hast brought, that was well done. But thee can do even better: Make sure that this”—she made a sweeping gesture to include their surroundings—”be protected.”

  “How can I do that?”

  “Easily, poppet. I shall show thee. And in thy nature there lies that which shall aid thee.”

  She arose gracefully from the stool. “Now do thou bide still while I gather that which must return with thee. And do thou listen well to all that I say. Thou comest to warn, thou wilt go surely to save.”

  Hagar went directly to a cupboard at the darker end of the room and slipped its heavy latch. Holly could see, within, small jars and bags arranged on its shelves. It would seem that Hagar herself was not quite decided which she would need, for she touched this packet, that jar, sometimes took one from the shelf and weighed it in her hand as if she must make very sure she selected that which was of the utmost importance.

  At length she returned with several packets, one much larger than the others, but well wrapped so that Holly could not see what it contained. As she laid them down one by one on the table she spoke a name aloud, her finger still resting on each packet so named as if she were making sure Holly would know what it was.

  “Furmentory, bryony, hemp; vervain, mugwort, moonwort, mullen, and the greatest of all”—she touched last the longer packet—”root of mandrake. Planted these must be, and in such a place as they may flourish unknown for a space. Dost thou understand?”

  Holly nodded. Grandma’s part of the fix-it shed. But now she asked, “What are all those for?”

  “For our profit, my poppet. For as they grow, so will time be tied to time. Also wilt thou begin to grow in power. Moonwort—when it be ready—that thou may dream upon. True dreams such as those that brought thee hither. And when thou dost so dream, then shall I speak to thee and tell thee what thou must do next that this danger thou hast spoken of may not come nigh. Does thee now understand?”

  “Yes.” She could really understand that Hagar needed this help if she were to escape Sexton Dimsdale. And if Hagar escaped so would Tamar, too, Holly assured her uneasy conscience. Because this must be why the house and the witch were gone the next day after the men had been frightened away.

  Hagar leaned forward, her arm outstretched. “Close thy eyes, poppet!” she ordered.

  Confused, Holly obeyed, and felt a light touch on each eyelid.

  “Now thy mouth.” Holly, her eyes still closed, set her lips tightly together.

  “As I do say—so mote it be!” she heard Hagar pronounce. “Well enough, poppet. Thy eyes shall serve, thy lips keep silence—until we meet again. And now, take that which must be set to grow, and return to thine own place.”

  She had put the packets into a bag of green, the green of grass or of fresh leaves, and this she handed to Holly.

  “Judy—Crock—?” Holly asked uncertainly.

  “They shall not remember, naught but that ye all have been lost in the maze. Lead them by the hand and they will come safely out of it. Thou shalt do very well, poppet, very well indeed.”

  Holly stuffed the green bag inside her jacket. But, as she was turning away from the table, Hagar spoke again. “Thy kin, poppet—thou hast brought them here, and what they have seen and heard—that was not for them, for they will not have it so. I have said that they shall not remember, and that be so if—”

  “If?” Holly stood very still; there was something in that word “if,” as Hagar said it, which chilled her.

  “If thou dost what must be done, all will be well with them, for the fault in their memories will not then heal. But if thou choosest not to do—” Hagar shook her head slowly. “Then I cannot say what fears will haunt them. For thou, poppet, have seen things here as they are. But thy kin have not had that clear sight and they have seen what will be ill to remember, shall haunt dr
eams.”

  Holly looked from Hagar to Judy and Crock—their set face. Yes, she could see fear there. Hagar was right. It was her fault that they had come, her fault if they would have had dreams and memories.

  “I won’t let it happen!” It had been partly their fault, too—this came into her mind. But she would see that all was right, she would prove that she had been right.

  “Just so, poppet. Remember all I have told thee and do what is to be done; thus all shall be well with thee in every way.” Once more Hagar raised her hand and made a sign in the air.

  Holly blinked. Had there been a strange glow about the other’s pointing finger when she moved it so? Now it was gone and she was not at all sure she had seen it. She crossed the room and took Crock’s hand where it hung limply by his side. It felt cold, as if he had been holding a piece of ice, and Judy’s was the same.

  Before them the door began to open slowly of itself. Leading the twins, Holly walked through it. The gloom outside was darker, clouds hung heavy over their heads, and there was a wind so chill that when it struck Holly full-face, it made her gasp. Home—just let them get back to the barnhouse, where it was warm and everything was just as it should be! Crock and Judy came along, but they still stared straight ahead. Holly had heard of people walking in their sleep—was that what the twins were doing? At least they were coming and she could lead them easily.

  They were through the blasted garden. Holly paused and glanced back over her shoulder, why she did not know. The door was shut again, there was not even a curl of smoke from the chimney now to show that someone did live there. But the house itself—Holly’s eyes seemed to blur, and through that blur she saw the outline of something which was not like the house at all, but far more seeming to be a dark monster crouched and watching her with mirror eyes.

  The impression frightened her so, that she plunged ahead directly into the gate of the maze, her heart beating faster. Her booted feet slipped on one of the slimy paving blocks and she nearly fell. Go slow, there was nothing behind her—

  Down one way, turn, down another, always leading Crock and Judy. Now she was back with the monster who had the mirror eyes—she was sure this was the one. Only there were no shining disks in its head now, just big black holes. Holly shivered as she hurried by with the twins.

  It was so cold, so very cold! And dark. Down near the ground in the tangle of brush, among the monster toadstools and ghost plants, were small specks of light. Holly saw them move, watching her—eyes! Eyes of things! She wanted to see no more of them, only be out of here, away into a world she could understand.

  Turn, turn, and turn again. It would be so easy to make the wrong turn, only something deep in her mind knew. The eyes were growing bolder, she saw the ugly outlines of heads—rats! Holly gave a sound close to a whimper. She hated rats. But as yet none of them came directly into the path.

  “Holly—Holly, where are we?” Crock suddenly jerked back against her pull. “Where—”

  His eyes were no longer set in that sleepwalking stare. But he turned his head from side to side and he was still afraid, she could read that in his face.

  “We’re in the maze,” she answered shortly.

  “We’ve got to get out!” his voice echoed, as the terrifying eyes crept closer to the edge of the pathway ahead. Holly glanced down and then looked away again quickly. She was certain that other things besides rats were closing in upon them. But Hagar had promised—

  It was as if remembering Hagar’s name made the fear retreat. Crock—there was nothing for him to be afraid of, she thought with a touch of scorn. Why, he would never have come this far if she hadn’t brought him. And they had nothing to be afraid of, Hagar had promised—

  “Come on,” Holly said harshly. “We can get out easy.”

  But Crock had turned to his twin. “Judy? What’s the matter with Judy?” Now he gave Holly an accusing glance.

  “She’s all right! She’s—she’s sort of asleep. Come on!”

  Crock shivered, but he moved forward, and now he had caught Judy’s other hand and they drew her along between them.

  “Tamar—” Judy’s voice was hardly above a whisper.

  Hagar had said that they would not remember, that they would only think they had been lost in the maze. If that was so, she, Holly, must be very sure not to say anything to make them know more. Because—Hagar had said it would be bad if they did. Now she tried to choose words to satisfy Judy.

  “We didn’t find Tamar—we just got lost.”

  “I don’t like this place,” Judy cried. “I want to go home. I don’t want to be here!”

  “We’re going,” Holly told her. “We’re going just as fast as we can.”

  “But we’re lost—you brought us in the wrong way, Holly; you knew it was the wrong way!” Judy’s mouth took on a stubborn set. “I’m not going to go any way you say. We’ll only be more and more lost—”

  “No—look there, Judy—I remember this.” Crock hurried on to the next division of paths. “Sure, it’s this way.”

  Judy pulled her hand out of Holly’s and sped after him. For a moment Holly watched them go. She was cold outside, and she was cold inside, too. Judy, Crock, they acted as if they did not want to be with her any more.

  What if they don’t, said something else, you know more than they do. Hagar—she said that you had the power, they didn’t. Holly did not know what that “power” might be. But thinking about it made her straighten up and feel an importance she had not known before. She pressed both hands against her chest and the bag within her jacket. Do what Hagar said and she could learn more and more—then just let Crock or Judy say she was wrong! See what would happen then!

  8

  Second Planting

  “Well now, an’ what do you think of that?” Grandma must have heard them come in, but she did not look around from the table. She had leaned back in her chair, was studying what stood before her.

  The statue woman was whole. And she was—

  Holly shook her head at her own first thought. Of course, that could not be a statue of Tamar! But it was of a woman who was dressed just like her, wide skirt drawn up on each side to show an underskirt almost as full, the apron, the collar, the laced bodice, and a cap covering most of her hair. Though the figure was all white, with no color to bring it to life.

  “That’s Tamar!” Before Holly could stop her, Judy had gone to the table and was gazing, fascinated, at the figure. “That is Tamar.”

  Now Grandma did look around. “Tamar—an’ who’s Tamar? That’s a queerish name, to be sure. Wherever did you hear that one?”

  It was Crock who answered while Holly still stood in dismay. “She heard it in an old story about Dimsdale. Tamar was supposed to live here once.”

  “That so?” Grandma was interested. “Somethin’ Miss Sarah told you at the library, I suppose. Well, this here doesn’t say no Tamar—let’s see—” She pointed to some words at the foot of the base on which the repaired figure stood. “Now that says—” She stooped a little to see the better without having to touch the figure, holding her glasses very firmly in place as she did so. “Well, did you ever now!”

  “What does it say?” Judy crowded closer, her own head strained forward. “Oh, look—there’s Tomkit, too. Right down by her feet. It says”—Judy read the words aloud slowly—” ‘The Young Witch.’ That’s a lie,” she cried out. “Tamar’s not a witch! She’s good!”

  “Judy!” Grandma spoke more sharply than she ever had to any of them before. “I did wrong in telling you all that there story of Miss Elvery’s, that’s plain. There ain’t no such things as witches, ’cept in stories. Miss Elvery was so old, an’ she had had so many troubles in her life—well, she didn’t think too straight anymore. She read so much ’bout the old days, half the time she was livin’ in them, rather than here an’ now. I don’t know about this here Tamar, but don’t you go talking witches an’ such.”

  “They hung witches at Salem,” Crock broke in. “We saw
the witch house where they had the trial. People did believe in witches then.”

  Grandma looked beyond Judy to her twin. That displeased note in her voice was even stronger as she continued, “They never hung no witches here.” She looked back at the figure she had repaired, but now there was no sign of satisfaction or pleasure in her face as there had been earlier. “An’ this here statue is jus’ what some person thought up for hisself.” She reached out for an old torn pillow slip (the one in which she had so carefully kept the broken pieces when she was working with them), and this she drew swiftly around the mended figure. “This goes out. Does Mr. Correy want it, he’ll be entirely welcome!”

  As she wrapped the figure she was still frowning. Then she arose and took it to the stall with the mended china, setting it down at the far back of the shelf. She might even be wishing now that she had not mended it or that it was no longer in the barn-house at all.

  “That was Tamar,” Judy said in a low voice, her eyes still fixed on the table from which Grandma had lifted the statue. “And it said she was a witch! Something bad’s going to happen to Tamar—I know it!”

  “No, it won’t!” Holly had not loosened her jacket; she still held her arm protectingly across her middle, feeling between it and her chest the bag Hagar had given her. Judy was really silly—just a child. Hagar was Tamar’s sister, even though she had hinted that she did not like her much. But it was Ha-gar’s house, too. And she would not let old Sexton Dimsdale burn it down. Hagar knew how to stop him—

  Only she had made very clear that she needed Holly’s help. Holly had to plant what she had been given. She could not understand how planting things in pots was going to help, but she was confident that Hagar knew, or she would not have told Holly to do just that.