“Ah, the pest controller,” said Queen Sychorax, inclining her head.
“My name,” said the Witchsmeller, stiffening somewhat, “is the Witchsmeller.”
“Excellent,” said Queen Sychorax. “Welcome to iron Warrior fort. I have summoned you here to my queendom because we have made the unwelcome discovery that Witches are not extinct after all, and I need you to hunt some down for me.”
Oh! thought Wish, cheering up a little. So my mother ISN’T leaving the Wizards to fight the Witches on their own! But I’m not sure she’s chosen the right person to help her…
“You have come to the right person,” said the Witchsmeller with a smile. He didn’t quite like the word “summoned.” Who did this backwater queen think she was?
“Let me explain my problem. This stone here used to be my Stone-That-Takes-Away-Magic,” said Queen Sychorax.
She gestured to the back of the stage, where Wish realized for the first time, the stone had been carried up from the dungeon where it was normally kept. “And for many years I have successfully removed the Magic from many a giant and sprite. But about six months ago, the stone was found to contain a Kingwitch, who then escaped from the stone and as a result we have something of a Witch infestation in the western territories.”
The Witchsmeller took a good look at the stone. There was a sword sticking out of the great jagged split that cracked the stone from side to side. The Witchsmeller tried to remove the sword from the cracked stone. It would not budge. The Witchsmeller made tut-tutting noises.
“I have built a Wall along the entire western edge of my kingdom to protect Warrior territories, but I need you and your troops to go out there and hunt down the Witches,” said Queen Sychorax.
The Witchsmeller shook his head condescendingly. “Ah, Your Majesty, I am quite surprised that you used a Magic object like this stone in the first place. And you should have been KILLING the Magic, not removing it… The emperor would not be pleased. Such softness is not the Warrior way.”
There was an uncomfortable murmur from Queen Sychorax’s subjects, and they all took a step backward, as if moving away from the edge of a volcano that was about to blow.
Nobody spoke like that to Queen Sychorax.
Queen Sychorax’s eyes sharpened to flinty arrows.
“Softness? Softness???? Not the Warrior way? How dare you question my methods?” she said in a voice that could have frozen the very bone marrow of a lesser man. “I merely use Magic to destroy Magic, in a modern civilized manner. The ends justify the means. I am a great monarch and YOU are a mere common-or-garden rodent-operative. I have commanded you to go out and hunt Witches. So go out and do it!”
The Witchsmeller jumped as if he had been bitten.
He had never before met someone with quite the force of Queen Sychorax’s personality. Mostly people cowered before him. He, the Witchsmeller, was the Terror of the Empire. He looked behind him at his soldiers, the emperor’s crack Magic-hunting troops.
The sunlight glistened off their iron helmets, their bristling weaponry, their Magic-catching equipment.
“I believe I am the expert on Witches, Your Majesty,” snapped the Witchsmeller. “Your problem is not the Witches out there, but the Witches here in this courtyard!”
Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear, oh dear! thought Wish. This is DEFINITELY not the right person to help…
“What on earth are you talking about?” snapped Queen Sychorax, out-snapping him by double. “I’ve told you, no Witches can get over my Wall!”
“YOU HAVE INVITED ME HERE LOOKING FOR WITCHES AND I INTEND TO FIND THEM!” shouted the Witchsmeller, pointing one quivering finger in the air.
He sidled forward and began to sniff at the nearest person, as if he were a dog.
“I smell Witches…” hissed the Witchsmeller, in a high, squeaky voice.
A murmer of horror went around the courtyard.
“Oh for goodness’ sake,” said Queen Sychorax with a sigh, thinking, Oh no, just my luck, he’s a nutcase, and thoroughly regretting inviting this lunatic into her queendom in the first place.
She generally had perfect control of her subjects, but they were a superstitious lot, and she could see this might get out of hand.
“I smell WITCHES!” cried the Witchsmeller again, holding his shaking finger to the heavens in a voice of DOOM.
Mad as a box load of frogs. Nuttier than a tree full of squirrels… thought the queen.
“I can sniff out Magic, wherever it may be hiding,” snarled the Witchsmeller. “I will move through the crowd and point at any person who is concealing Magic…”
Now there was a dreadful silence in the courtyard, and you did not need the nose of a Witchsmeller to detect the smell of fear.
Nerves and sweat.
Wish could feel herself getting very hot, and her clothes itching her neck and back.
“Murmuring mistletoe, you’ve never actually met a real Witch, have you, pest controller?” said Queen Sychorax, drumming her fingers on the arms of her throne in great irritation. “You’d know it if you saw one… a big feathered thing with green blood and talons…”
“Those kind of Witches are extinct!” screamed the Witchsmeller. “I’m talking about the modern Witches! The Witches in our midst!”
“You won’t find any Magic here, pest controller,” said Queen Sychorax, yawning. “I keep a very clean castle.”
Wish tried to half hide behind her stepsister Drama, to make herself even smaller, so she would not be noticed. Her hair was so alarmingly frizzy and alive that she was having to hold it down forcibly with both arms. Maybe no one would notice.
Please don’t let the finger land on me…
Please.
If that finger lands on me, I’m never going to be allowed out of that Punishment Cupboard EVER AGAIN…
My mother is going to be SO disappointed…
But that will be the least of my worries because I also may be DEAD…
And here the quivering nose was right behind her. Sniff, sniff, sniff.
The finger paused, she could almost feel it, the bony digit about to press itself into her back, like the spooky white bone of a chicken. It would happen in one second, two…
Wish could not bear it, the agony of suspense. She closed her one eye.
Please don’t let the finger land on me.
Please.
The finger paused behind her—it was about to land on her, she knew it…
5. The Finger Lands on Wish… and Everything Gets a Bit Chaotic…
The spooky chicken finger of the Witchsmeller landed right in the middle of Wish’s back.
“Aha!” crowed the Witchsmeller triumphantly, swinging her around to face him. “A Witch!”
The crowd gave a moan of astonishment.
“How do you do?” gabbled Wish, rather desperately falling back on her Visitor Manners. “Welcome to Warrior Castle. Did you have a good trip? Very-pleasant-weather-for-the-time-of-year, I-do-hope-you-are-well and… er… what-do-YOU-do?”
The Witchsmeller blinked at her in amazement.
“I… hunt… WITCHES…” he snarled.
You have to hand it to Queen Sychorax. She was absolutely cool as a cucumber in a crisis. She glided out of her throne in a graceful golden flash, and she laid a restraining hand on the Witchsmeller’s arm. She even managed to sound a little bored.
“That is not a Witch, pest controller,” said Queen Sychorax. “That is my daughter, Wish. She may be a bit of an incompetent disgrace to her tribe, but she most certainly is not a Witch.”
“She couldn’t possibly be the daughter of a Warrior queen!” hissed the Witchsmeller. “She’s very odd-looking…”
“I think I know my own daughter,” said the queen witheringly. “Hair disgraceful, height poor, general Warrior turnout utterly substandard—where are your weapons, Wish?”
“I left them in the cupboard…” said Wish, miserably looking down at her feet to avoid her mother’s scathing gaze.
�
�Spelling appalling, disobedience unspeakable, deportment tragic,” continued Sychorax, brutal even by her own standards, for Sychorax was ANGRY. “Yes, it’s definitely her.”
“But this notice on her chest here says she’s a Fule… What is a Fule?” spluttered the Witchsmeller suspiciously. “Is that some kind of weird western Magic being?”
“You are the fool, pest controller,” said Queen Sychorax in her cold, reasoned voice. “Witches cannot hide themselves in people. I keep telling you, Witches are a very different thing altogether. Witches have green blood and feathered wings. They are not extinct, which is the reason I summoned you here in the first place.”
The Witchsmeller had regained his composure. He held up his finger.
“THE FINGER IS NEVER WRONG!” shouted the Witchsmeller. “SEARCH THE FULE!”
Sychorax drew herself up to her full royal height.
“My daughter, however hopelessly unworthy, is of royal blood and a direct descendant of Grimshanks the Ogre-wrangler!” said Queen Sychorax. “You most certainly will not search her or I shall be complaining to the emperor personally! Wish will turn out her pockets on her own, won’t you, Wish?”
Thank GOODNESS Bodkin had taken all those enchanted objects off her, Wish thought. He was the best bodyguard in the world. And she really, really should start taking his advice.
Wish felt in her pockets, confident at least of finding nothing there, and turned a little white. She slowly drew out her hand, opened it, and there, sitting in the palm, was…
The Once-sprite.
And out of the other pocket, in terrified alarm, there buzzed…
Squeezjoos… who just had time to squeak at Wish: “I’s ssorry, Wisssh!”
Wish blinked at him in astonishment. What was he doing here anyway?????
Out of nowhere a peregrine falcon dived down in a blurr of wings and hovered for a split second above Wish’s hand. With impeccable timing (if Wish had been in the mood to admire it), the little Once-sprite hopped on the bird’s back and Squeezjoos hung on to one of the falcon’s claws, and they soared up, up, and away, Wish looking after them with her mouth open.
There was a nasty silence.
And then there was absolute chaos.
“She has sprites in her pockets!” screeched the Witchsmeller. “SHE’S A WITCH!”
“Is this your idea, Wish,” said Queen Sychorax, through teeth so gritted they were practically grinding, “of not causing any trouble?”
“I didn’t know they were in there, honestly, Mother…” pleaded Wish with a very white face.
“SEIZE THE FULE!” screamed the lunatic Witchsmeller, drawing his sword.
“The princess may have a few sprites in her pockets,” cried Queen Sychorax, incandescent with annoyance and drawing her own sword. “But that doesn’t make the disobedient little excuse for a princess a Witch. Warriors! DEFEND THE PRINCESS!”
And then she gave a start as…
CLANG! CLANG! CLANG! CLANG! CLANG! Across the Royal Stage came the Enchanted Spoon, rushing to Wish’s rescue. He had a curious way of propelling himself, like he was doing headstands, and then jumping back onto his feet again, cartwheeling from bowl to handle, and then back to bowl again.
“What is that???” hissed Queen Sychorax in disbelief. As quick as a whip, the Enchanted Spoon danced right up the baffled Witchsmeller’s long black body.
CLANG! CLUNK! CLANG! CLANG! The Enchanted Spoon was clanging the Witchsmeller’s helmet from left to right so loudly that the Witchsmeller dropped his sword and staggered, his ears ringing with the noise.
And, just as if things weren’t confusing enough already…
“WITCH ATTACK!” screamed Bodkin as, with a strength born of fear, the Assistant Bodyguard managed, despite his two sets of armor, to clamber onto the Royal Stage.
For Bodkin, his mind full of Witches, had seen something that nobody else had noticed. The problem with invisible attackers is that you start seeing them everywhere. But this time Bodkin knew he was right.
There was a Witch’s talon levitating in the air, heading in the direction of Wish and the Witchsmeller…
So Bodkin stormed the Royal Stage, screaming “WITCH! WITCH!” which, as you can imagine, didn’t exactly calm the situation.
“WITCH, Wish! There’s a Witch right behind you!” yelled Bodkin.
“SEIZE THE FULE!” screamed a whole crowd of Magic-hunters, storming the stage right behind Bodkin.
“DEFEND THE PRINCESS!” yelled the Warriors loyal to Queen Sychorax, storming the stage after them.
I told you it was chaos.
“AHA!” crowed the Witchsmeller in triumph, as eventually he managed to grab the thing that was attacking him and pull it off his head.
The spoon immediately stopped struggling and pretended to be dead.
The Witchsmeller blinked at the spoon in astonishment. “I’m being attacked… by a spoon?”
He leaned down and sniffed the spoon all over, the revolting tip of his nose snuffling up and down like it was a bloodhound’s.
The spoon tried as hard as he could to be rigid. But eventually he couldn’t quite bear it, the sniffing was so ticklish. Little ripples shook his sides like giggles, for one second, before he turned hard again.
The Witchsmeller blinked. Surely he hadn’t seen that. A spoon couldn’t move.
Tentatively he put the spoon in his mouth, because that is what you do with a spoon, after all. The minute the spoon touched his lips, the spoon struggled wildly, thrashing around from side to side, desperate to escape.
The Witchsmeller spat the spoon out in horror and screamed like he had been stung by a hornet: “It’s alive!!!!”
It was hard to know who was the more revolted, the Witchsmeller or the spoon.
The spoon leaped up, rapped him sharply on the sensitive end of his nose, and hopped down the Witchsmeller as fast as he could hop, before disappearing through the nearest person’s legs.
“Catch that spoon!!!!!!!” yelled the Witchsmeller, holding on to his nose.
I wish I had a sword… thought Wish, looking desperately around her.
She was standing right next to the Enchanted Sword, which was stuck fast in the Stone-That-No-Longer-Took-Away-Magic.
So Wish reached out and took it.
Queen Sychorax watched Wish do this with her royal mouth slightly ajar. Sychorax had spent the last six months trying every trick in the book that she knew to get that beastly Witch-killing sword out of the stone—for with the return of the Witches to the forest, she really, really needed it—and it would not budge.
Six months!
She’d had giants, Rogrebreaths, and strong men and women from all over her queendom try to pull it out. She’d even secretly tried spelling it out (for Queen Sychorax was a very tricky and unusual person, and she was not above using Magic to destroy Magic, as we have seen).
To no avail. Nothing had worked. And here was her odd, unsatisfactory little daughter just reaching out and taking it!
Queen Sychorax was reluctantly not only impressed but perhaps also a little confused. There were things going on here that Queen Sychorax did not perfectly understand, and Queen Sychorax absolutely hated that.
Wish wasn’t normally all that good at swordfighting.
But the Enchanted Sword had the rather satisfactory effect of turning whoever was wielding it into the Best Swordfighter in the World, so Wish disarmed one, two, three Magic-hunters in a row. (“Nice work,” said Queen Sychorax to herself, watching this.)
Wish then ran to help Bodkin, for he did now seem to be fighting what looked very like a Witch’s talon that was floating in the air—clumsily, poor Bodkin, because, as Wish said earlier, it’s very important not to wear so much armor that you find it difficult to move.
He couldn’t turn his head to face the invisible opponent who he thought he was fighting; he had to turn his ENTIRE BODY three hundred and sixty degrees and shuffle around very, very slowly. To make matters worse, Bodkin’s impressive but comp
letely blinding visor then came down, and he couldn’t see a thing. The sword was so heavy that when he eventually managed to lift it and make a wild swipe at where he guessed his opponent might be, the weight of it carried him with it, and he lost his balance, and…
CLANG!
That was the sound of Bodkin’s helmeted head hitting the floor.
He immediately passed out, for Bodkin had a slight problem. He had a medical condition that caused him to fall asleep in situations of extreme danger.
“Bodkin! Wake up!” yelled Wish.
“Who? Where? What? How?” Bodkin sat up, holding his head.
“Iron Warrior fort! Possible Witch attack! Watch out! I think it’s going to dive!” shouted Wish.
She was about to lunge with the Enchanted Sword toward where she thought the invisible assailant might be…
And then she checked herself just in time.
Could this be…?
6. And a Little More Chaotic Still
Indeed it could be.
The invisible assailant sl-o-o-owly became visible in front of Wish’s eyes, as the iron of the soldiers surrounding him made whatever invisibility spell he was using wear off. It was the Wizard boy Xar, son of Encanzo.
“XAR!” exclaimed Wish, completely forgetting where they both were in her delight at seeing her old friend again. “But… but… what are you doing here?”
“I’m saving you, even though you’ve completely sabotaged my mission!” shouted Xar.
“That tricky wretch of a Wizard boy!” gasped Queen Sychorax.
Xar, you see, had gone to considerable trouble to get into iron Warrior fort. He needed his Spelling Book.
Twice Magic Page 5