by Julie C. Dao
“I saw you leave, you know,” he said. “Every night. I watched you from my window, jumping onto the kitchen roof with a basket over your arm. You looked so happy to be going to her, you were practically running over the bridge and into the forest.”
“Have you been following me?” Elva asked, shocked.
“I tried, but I always lost you. You moved too fast and it was too dark. I came back during the day and tried to look for your tracks, to see exactly where in the woods you were going every night, but I could never find any.”
Images flitted before Elva’s eyes: trees, whispering in the wind. An old stone well. And on the ground, a crumpled, motionless body over which she wept. “I told you never to go to the North Woods without me!” she cried, fear scalding her throat. “Haven’t you listened to a word I’ve said? How many times have you done that?”
“I’m not sure it’s any of your business. You’re not the only one who can keep secrets.”
“Cay, please!” Elva begged. “I saw a vision of someone hurt or…maybe worse…in the woods. I can’t be sure it was you, but I don’t want to take any chances.”
“Well, I do want to take a chance. You’re also not the only one who wants to help our family and get rid of the curse, so stop treating me like I’m a helpless infant,” Cay said, his face red with anger. “I’m going to find something that can help us, and that’s that.”
And he left the room before Elva could say another word.
A few nights later, Elva flung open the door of Mathilda’s cottage. “I have news!”
The cat yowled in surprise and the witch, who had been chopping turnip roots, dropped her knife on the floor with a cry. “For goodness’ sake, Elva,” she said irritably, bending to pick it up. “I could have cut off a finger.”
“Never mind that!” Elva leaned against the kitchen table, trying to catch her breath. “I ran all the way here to tell you the council’s agreed to a trial!”
Mathilda’s knife clattered to the floor again. “What?”
“They were reluctant, but after Papa and Herr Bauer pleaded your case, the men put it to a vote and most were in your favor.”
“Probably out of morbid curiosity, and not generosity of spirit,” the witch said dryly.
“Oh, it doesn’t matter why they voted! You’re going to have a trial!” Elva grabbed the woman’s hands and swung her around in circles as the cat looked askance at them. “You’re going to have a chance to be a citizen, and to live freely and out in the open like everyone else.”
“I don’t know what to say,” Mathilda said, her face flushed. “I didn’t believe it would work, and now it has, thanks to you. But when is the trial? And what will happen?”
Elva collapsed into a chair. “It’s set for one week from tomorrow, at noon in the town hall. The thirteen councilmen will be present, along with any other townspeople who want to attend. Papa’s sure it’s going to be crowded. The council will ask you questions to determine your suitability as a citizen, and they’ll call forward witnesses to support your case.”
“Witnesses?” the witch echoed.
“Like me,” Elva said, smiling. “And maybe even Mama.”
“Now that I cannot believe,” Mathilda said, pouring Elva a cup of cool water.
“She suggested it to me herself. When Papa wasn’t in the room, of course.” Elva drank the water gratefully. “She’s never felt right about the way things ended between you. And she thinks of you as a peaceful neighbor. She’s willing to show the letters you exchanged if it might help persuade the council. So we’ll both be by your side.”
The witch sat down, her hands fluttering from her forehead to the table to her lap. “I don’t know what to say,” she repeated. “This is more than I ever dared hope. Thank you, Elva.”
“Papa says not to hope for too much,” Elva warned. “He thinks the council might issue a warrant of protection for you, if you want to move closer to town and go to market and so on. He told me not to expect overnight popularity…though that was never your aim.”
“No,” Mathilda agreed. “What will happen if the council decides against me?”
Elva bit her lip. “We’ll worry about that later.”
“What will happen?” the witch pressed her.
After a long moment, Elva said, “They’re repairing the old gallows behind the town hall. Some of the men insisted on it, the ones who were against you having a trial at all.” Even saying the word gallows made her feel ill. The day before, she had passed by the town hall and seen the platform with its steep, crooked stairs, dangling loops of thick rope, and the square of wood cut into the center. The image of that square opening and feet plunging helplessly downward had appeared in her mind, and she’d had to run home, almost sick to her stomach.
But if anything, this information seemed to make Mathilda calmer. Her eyes twinkled and she laid a hand, cool and steady, on Elva’s. “Don’t worry. It won’t come to that. And even if it does, do you really think a bunch of farmers and some rope can hold me?”
Elva tried but couldn’t keep the smile on her face. “I’m happy we’ve gotten this far, but I’m scared for you. I wish I could be sure I’ve done the right thing. There’s so much hatred from people who don’t even know you. Papa said they brought up Frau Bergmann and her toads and snakes again, and the rat poison and missing children, even though they have no evidence….”
“They don’t need evidence when they have prejudice,” the witch said placidly. “That’s the way it has always been. What will be, will be. If they accept me, wonderful. If they don’t, well, then nothing has changed. Don’t fret. You know I can protect myself, and it means the world that you’ve gotten me this chance at all.” She crossed her arms, looking thoughtful. “I have to admit I’m surprised Oskar spoke to the council for me. How did you convince him?”
“I, um, asked him nicely?”
Mathilda raised her eyebrows, waiting.
“And…I agreed to his condition to have you strip my magic away, even though you can’t. I know it was wrong to lie to my parents,” Elva added hastily, “but I had to.”
“I never thought I would live to see the day you lied to anyone,” the witch said, laughing. “And lied for me, no less. Well, what Oskar and Agnes don’t know won’t hurt them.”
Elva took the mirror out of her basket. “All day I’ve been too afraid to call up a vision of the trial. I want to know what happens, but I don’t at the same time.”
“Do it, if it will make you feel better.”
She unwrapped the looking glass from its velvet covering, her stomach clenching with anxiety. “I’m not going to ask it to show me anything. I’m just going to see what I see.”
It took Elva much longer to get to the state of mind she needed. For several minutes, all she could see was her own worried reflection, but at last, a vision appeared in the mirror. It was the storm raging once more, tearing up the fields and ripping branches from the trees. But there was something different this time: The barn shook in the gale, but it stayed whole. Extra boards had been nailed over all the windows, and Elva saw new wood gleaming on the roof. They listened to me, she thought, scarcely daring to take a breath. They reinforced the buildings. The fields, too, were empty of full-grown crops, and there were no dead animals lying on the grass this time. This was the future as it stood now, after she had told her family about the storm.
The vision faded as her concentration slipped, and she forced herself to focus harder. The willow tree symbol preceded the scene Elva both hoped for and dreaded: Mathilda’s trial. Every spot on the benches inside the town hall was occupied, and in the center of the room, the witch stood straight-backed and proud, facing a half circle of men, their faces grim and stern.
“Is that the truth?” asked Herr Werner, the head of the council.
“It is,” said the Mathilda in the vision, and before Elva could see or hear any more, the willow tree flashed again. She almost cried out in her disappointment, but her voice died in h
er throat when the next image appeared in the looking glass.
It was of Elva herself, sleeping in the forest. Her long golden hair streamed out around her head, dotted with pure white starflowers, and she wore a white lace dress she had never seen before. Her eyes were closed and her face was peaceful. Her arms were crossed over her chest, pressing a bouquet of pink and yellow wildflowers against her. The ferns and grass around her swayed gently in the breeze, and at her head were the spreading roots of a great tree.
There was something strange about the image of her own face, like it was frosted somehow. As though she wasn’t sleeping on the ground outside, but beneath a sheet of glass…
The mirror went blank. Elva blinked and sat back. “I couldn’t concentrate. I had to let go,” she gasped to Mathilda. “What does it mean?”
“I don’t know. But that last image frightens me more than the trial.” Mathilda frowned. “You must be careful. You’re getting stronger and better at magic, but you are by no means experienced yet. Don’t get so overconfident that you lose yourself in a vision, or expend too much energy.”
“I won’t.” Elva gulped in a few deep breaths. “Did you see the changes to our farm?”
Mathilda nodded. “It seems your family will take your warning seriously.”
“That means I changed the future, doesn’t it?” Elva asked, and the witch looked at her in silence. “We can’t prevent the storm from coming, but we can arm ourselves against it. I affected the course of events by telling my family what would happen. That means that some aspects of the future I see in the mirror can be changed.”
“What are you getting at?”
“Nothing. I just thought it was interesting, that’s all,” Elva said hastily. She got up from the table. “I should be getting home. I don’t want Papa to worry, now that he knows where I’ve been going. But I’ll come back to you tomorrow night.”
“Promise?” Mathilda asked, with a slight smile.
“I promise.”
The witch patted her shoulder. “Go on, then. I’ve think we set more in motion than we realize, but I’m glad I’ll be weathering it all with you.”
The next day, Willem came into the stables while Elva was feeding the horses. Her stomach dropped when she saw him smiling at her with a bunch of white daisies in his hand. She had been doing her best to avoid him, but now the dreaded moment had arrived.
“These are for you,” he said, giving her the flowers. “I haven’t seen you in a while.”
Elva wished she didn’t have hay in her hair and dirt on her apron. “I’ve been busy.”
“Helping your parents reinforce the barn and harvest crops early, even though the almanac predicts dry weather? Is there something you know that no one else does?” he asked, but his twinkling dark eyes didn’t give her the fluttery feeling they usually did.
She turned her back on him. “You never know what might come,” she said lightly.
“You’ve probably been busy preparing for the witch’s trial, too.”
Elva stiffened. “Yes, I’m sure you’ve heard all about it from Herr Bauer.”
“But why didn’t I hear about it from you?” Willem asked, leaning against the stall door. “You could have trusted me with that, Elva. I should have known the night of the Easter party, when you were angry with me for speaking against her, that you were friends with her.”
“We weren’t friends then. I was angry with you because you were spreading evil talk.”
Willem blinked at her tone. “Have I done something to upset you, love?”
The term of endearment would have thrilled Elva a week ago. Now it only grated on her nerves. She turned to face him. “I heard you laughing along with what your companions said in the forest, Willem. I was there for the whole discussion. Mathilda eats children, does she?”
Willem let out a laugh of disbelief. “They were joking! You shouldn’t be so serious all the time. That’s just the way Herr Bauer’s farmhands talk amongst ourselves.”
“A joke and a vicious lie about my friend are not the same thing,” she said evenly.
“I didn’t know she was your friend! You wouldn’t tell me!”
Two of Papa’s farmhands came in with fresh bales of hay, but when they saw Willem and Elva facing off, they quickly and silently went back out.
“You come in here acting hurt that I didn’t tell you about Mathilda,” Elva exclaimed, her breath coming out in short, furious gasps, “yet you didn’t tell me you had gone hunting for her! As though she were an animal! Do you think I’m an animal, too? Would you hunt me, Willem?”
“Please, Elva, you’re overreacting….”
“How could you take part in all that hate?” Elva’s eyes stung and her chest felt so tight, it hurt to breathe. “I was so happy with you. I thought you were the sweetest, kindest person. You loved me for who I was and wanted to marry me, even knowing my secret.”
“Don’t speak as though that’s in the past. I love you and I want to marry you,” Willem said fiercely. “Your secret makes no difference to me. I accept it. What the others said about the witch was wrong, perhaps, but I don’t think of you the way I do of her!”
“But she and I are the same! Why can’t any of you understand that?” Elva cried.
“Listen to me. I’m sorry they joked about her that way. I didn’t know you cared about her, or I would have spoken up. None of us believed we would ever find her, let alone harm her! They were just boasting about impossible things and I wanted to play along.” Willem reached for her and she relented, letting him take her hands. “But I came here with happy news that you’ll be glad to hear. We can be married right away. We don’t have to wait! Do you remember Klaus?”
“Yes, and every cruel thing he said about Mathilda in the woods.”
Willem squeezed her hands. “Klaus is leaving Herr Bauer soon for a new position. There’s a traveling circus coming to Berlin in two weeks, and he’s going to find work with them. He’s up for anything: feeding animals, sweeping up, cleaning trash. The circus is well-known and it goes all over the world, and Klaus says it pays well. Now,” he added, looking a bit hesitant, “I know you’ll be a little angry with me when I tell you this, but please hear me out.”
“I heard what he said. You’re taking me with you, and as your wife, I have no choice.”
“It was wrong of him to say that,” Willem said soothingly. “Of course you have a choice. And I’m sorry I discussed the plan with him first. But there’s something else.” He looked down at their joined hands, avoiding Elva’s eyes. “I…I told Klaus about your visions.”
Elva let go of him and fell back against the door of the adjoining stall. Her side hit the wood, hard, but she barely felt the pain. “You did what?” she shrieked.
“He’s the only one I told.” Willem’s words came tumbling out in an eager rush. “And he swore on his mother’s grave that he would tell no one else. He doesn’t want Herr Bauer to hear about the circus and mock him for wanting to work with monkeys and clowns, anyway. But I told Klaus about you because he said the circus was hiring. They’re looking for performers, Elva. That’s why they travel so much—to find new audiences but also to seek talent from all over.”
“I sincerely hope,” Elva said, as the blood drained from her face, “that you’re telling me all this because you’re getting a job as a tightrope walker.”
“You could be that talent!” Willem cried, moving closer to her. “Just think: You’d have a beautiful tent and lovely clothes, and tell people what’s coming in the future. It doesn’t have to be serious! It could be something silly, like what they’ll eat the next day, or the next time they’ll see their true love, or what color eyes their baby will have. This circus pays more than any farmhand would see in his lifetime. How rich and successful you would be!”
Elva stared at him in speechless horror. The whole conversation felt unreal. Even the visions in her mirror had been more real than this. This was only a nightmare, a torturously bad dream, and any minute
now she would awaken and it would be over.
Willem was still talking eagerly. His voice sounded like it was coming from an opposite shore. Elva looked at him and saw a complete stranger, not the boy she had fallen for. Once, she had thought he understood how her magic was a special, private corner of her heart, but now she knew the truth. He would never see her or Mathilda as people, but as tools, as creatures to be hunted or feared or used. Her loving, understanding Willem, who had kissed her and made her laugh and stolen her heart, had been imagining, all this time, how to make money off her.
“And of course I would work hard, too,” he said quickly, misunderstanding her silence. “We could save for a house, and in a few years, we could settle and raise our family.”
“You want me to perform?” Elva asked quietly. “You want your wife to stand beside the dancing monkeys and clapping bears? Will people throw money at me, too, Willem? Will they shout how clever I am, as I tuck their coins into my hat? Will I also dance and clap for them?”
His face had gone stark white. “I thought you would be happy and excited for our life together,” he said in a strained voice. “I was thinking of you the whole time, of how to turn your gift into something useful, and to protect you, too. If people need you, they wouldn’t be so afraid of you, don’t you see? They wouldn’t hate you the way they hate that hag in the woods.”
“So because I have magic that I didn’t ask for, I should bow to people’s whims and be paraded around a circus like a show pony? I should be happy to sell myself for money?”
“You wouldn’t be selling yourself!” Willem cried. “You’d be selling your visions!”
“Which are me. They are a part of me.” Elva longed to take him by the ears and shake some sense into him. “I want to use them to help my family, not turn a profit.”
“You would be helping your family,” he argued. “You could send money home to your parents. Cay is a brilliant boy and he’s going to go places. I could see him doing great things at university someday, and you could help pay for his education.”