"I really think you should talk to your wife
about this, Oscar," Lindolf said as he saw the castle servant nod.
"This is something of national importance. Something that could
have catastrophic consequences for the community at large, if
people find out that we can't even protect ourselves and our
beloved royalty from some mysterious creature that already had a go
at the king."
Oscar's eyes reduced themselves to slits as
he tried to follow all the big words Lindolf spoke. It was in vain.
Most of the words were lost before he had heard them in full, so he
bravely nodded and picked up his mug.
Lindolf decided that he had said enough.
Perhaps even too much, as obviously Oscar was not catching on
anymore. He raised his own mug. "Tell your wife, Oscar. Tell your
wife."
Oscar nodded. "Yes. Tell your wife. I'll do
that." He already wondered if he would remember what it was he was
supposed to tell, but that was of later worry. "Let's drink to our
wives."
Lindolf toasted with Oscar. Maybe this was
not such a good person to load this task on after all, he thought
as he sipped some of his water.
"Snowy? Do you have a moment?"
Snow White looked over to the door where
Prince Jordan stood. She smiled. "It's long ago that you called me
Snowy, Jordan. I like it when you say that. What is it that you
want to talk about? I assume that's what you want to do."
The prince nodded and came in. "You're done
with the kids?" he asked as he took Snow White's hand. "Come, sit
down with me. This is concerning kids."
Snow White was very surprised about that.
'Kids' usually was a subject he avoided unless it involved making
them. With some difficulty she sat down as her pregnancy was
becoming a bother now.
Jordan told her about the talk he'd enjoyed
with Hilda and the rest of the magical corps. Of course he
emphasised the bit that it would be painful for him, but that he
was willing to take that.
Snow White was impressed. Not yet with
Jordan, as he had so far just delivered the words, but with Hilda
and the gang for getting him so far. She knew she had to play this
well. The prospect of no more children was really good. "Would you
really do that, my dear prince?" she asked him.
"Yes. I would." Jordan did not feel so brave
as his words sounded, but once they were out he knew he would
really have to go on with it.
Snow White leaned over their unborn child and
kissed him on the cheek. "When do you think it will... happen?"
Jordan grew pale. This was making things
real. "Uhm, I'm not sure yet. See, they are so busy catching
whatever is killing the animals around here, and it is very hard to
talk to them now."
"I understand, Jordan. Perhaps we can see
them this evening, at dinner."
"Yes. I guess."
-=-=-
A woman walked through the forest. She wore a
skirt that contained as many colours as a rainbow would. It looked
hand made, and also hand remade many times. Her long black hair
fell halfway down her back, dancing around the red blouse she wore.
"Something is not good. Something is very wrong even," she
muttered.
She reached the shed. Her black eyes went
over the walls, the door, the lock. "Told you," she told no one,
"something is not good."
The lock had been opened, she could tell. It
hung in a different way. Magda, for that was the woman, always hung
the lock in a particular way so she could see if someone had
tampered with it. In thought she scratched her pale cheek. "Not
good, not good."
She looked around the area, inspecting
everything. "Oh no. What's that?" In the ground she saw imprints of
what clearly had to be furniture. "It's them witches. I knew it. I
am sure of it. Nobody else would put chairs and tables and stuff
here. It's the witches. Damn, damn, damn." Magda reached for the
bunch of metal objects that hung from her belt. She undid the strap
that held the metal together and used the key to open the lock.
Inside she saw the dirty footprints on the
floor. That was another sign. She always made sure the floor was
swept, so she could see if someone had been inside. "This place is
not good anymore," she decided. "I'll have to see Lindolf about
this, tell him we don't go here anymore." Magda kicked the tattered
chair. "Where will we go..."
With effort she then moved her chair to the
side, kneeled down and wriggled a few floor boards until they came
loose. Underneath them lay a package, wrapped in a piece of cloth.
"We need this. Yes, we need this." Magda kept mumbling to herself
as she took the package from the hiding place and walked outside
again. She hid her package under a fern, went into the shed again
and found the small box with flints in the corner. She took two of
the flints and hit them over the overturned chair until it caught
fire.
Magda left the shed, collected her package
and moved back far enough so she was out of reach of the hungry
flames that quickly licked all around the dry wood. When she was
certain that nothing usable remained of the shed, she turned and
left the place. Of the shed only remained a stack of smoldering
wood and a glowing hot chain with a padlock.
-=-=-
Baba Yaga looked up from her musings as a
sound emerged from the heap that was Esmee. "Easy, Esmee," Babs
said as she got up and went over to the bed. "You've had a severe
attack of alcohol. I am glad it's you feeling like you do, not
me."
"Am I dead?" Esmee asked.
"You wish, right? Bad news, Esmee. You're
alive. Enjoy it while it lasts." Baba Yaga shook her head. "It's
about time we make a proper witch of you." She rolled Esmee on her
back, causing the hung-over witch to emit a loud groan.
"If I am not dead, this will kill me," Esmee
moaned.
"More bad news for you. It won't. Now, where
is your wand?" Baba Yaga did feel sorry for the whimpering witch,
but this was something Esmee would have to do herself.
"I don't want a wand. I want someone to shoot
me," Esmee muttered as she rolled on her side and into a ball on
the bed.
"Oh, good news," Babs grinned, "you get to
shoot yourself."
"Go away. Please. I can't stand you."
The door opened. "How are things here?" Hilda
cheerfully said as she and William came in.
"Gahhh..." Esmee uttered her view on things
here.
"Right. That says it all," grinned the witch.
"How is she with the wand?"
Baba Yaga shook her head again. "Not much.
She wants to be shot, and now she can shoot herself she's not
playing."
"Shut up. Please?" Esmee sat up and held her
head. "I am in pain and you are just talking."
"And you are not listening," said Baba Yaga
to her protegé. "Now whip out that wand and cure yourself."
William felt sorry for the flower witch, the
way she looked. Her dress was almost as much a mess as her face
was.
Esmee groaned as she popped up her wand. At
least she had learnt how to do that. "Now what..."
With some instruction from Babs and Hilda,
Esmee discovered how easy it was for a witch to get rid of a
hangover.
Esmee jumped from the bed. "Wonderful! What
are we going to do now?"
"We're going to think," said Hilda. "Think
about our next move. And we'll do that over some coffee."
"Tea," said Babs.
"Water," said Esmee.
"Whatever," said William.
The magicals united, and with cats they went
to one of the lounges where they could get tea and water. William
made some coffee for Hilda, who claimed she'd had better coffee in
her life. He grinned.
"So, what do we have," Baba Yaga said. "We
have proof there is a cat-woman going around. The local king has
the scratches to prove that."
"And we saw paw prints and we have the hair
to prove that," Esmee said, sipping water whilst eyeing Hilda's
coffee.
"We also found that shed. More proof, as
there was some magic around. Weird and troubled magic, but it
counts," Hilda said, offering her cup to Esmee who tried the black
stuff.
"Which leads to reason then that things
centre around that shed, for some reason." William tried the tea,
frowned, and turned it into coffee. "What on Earth did they do to
that tea..."
"I don't know," said Babs, "but can you do
that trick for me also?" William could and did.
Esmee stared at the cup of coffee she had
just drunk from. "This is gory," she decided. She poured herself
some tea.
"I vote that we should keep an eye on the
shed for a while," Hilda tossed in. "They are going to use that
again." The others agreed with her. "We should go and have a look
at it again tomorrow, maybe we missed something."
They continued their plan-making until a
servant entered the room and announced that dinner was being
served.
The witches and the wizard entered the dining
room and were greeted enthusiastically by Snow White who waved them
over. "Could Jordan and I have a word with you later? After dinner
and when we've put the children to bed?"
"Oh, certainly," Hilda said, "no problem.
Maybe Esmee can give you a hand, so you're done sooner."
Esmee grumbled but kept a straight face.
Until after dinner.
Snow White and Esmee came back quite quickly.
Hilda and her comrades in magic were still at their table when the
two women joined them. Snow White had her husband in tow; Prince
Jordan did not look the happiest man in the realm.
"Here we all are," Snow White said, "tea
anyone?"
"I'd vote against that," said William, "but
sure."
After the tea was delivered, and half of the
cups' contents were changed to William's coffee, Snow White told
the witchy assembly about the talk she'd had with Jordan. "We are
very curious to learn some more about it," she said, ignoring the
expression on hubby's face. Obviously he was not so keen.
"It is nothing big, really," William said,
"no reason to blow it up."
"Oh, sometimes it is small indeed, but,
uhm... blowing does help," Snow White said, her pale cheeks
colouring.
"Dear wife," said Jordan, "maybe we
should-"
"Oh, stuff it, prince," Baba Yaga said with
her usual sense of diplomacy. "The wizard speaks. Let him
talk."
From an adjacent table, a servant who was
cleaning it was shocked by the way the old and ugly witch spoke to
the heir to the throne.
"What are you looking at?" The unfortunate
servant was in the line of sight of Babs. "Hush, scoot, go. This is
private."
"Yes, my privates," Jordan confirmed quietly
and slightly uncomfortable. "And they're not that small."
"Hush, Jordan, let the wizard speak," said
Snow White.
William shrugged. "As I said, it's nothing
big. We'll sedate the royal princeness, do the procedure and cross
our wands that he's not in too much pain. For too long."
Jordan showed all signs of wanting to run,
but somehow he stayed in his seat. "And how long will that be?"
"The procedure? A few moments," said William,
making an uneducated guess. "The feeling afterwards... depends on
how much you can handle pain. Hard to tell."
"I'm sure a strong, young prince like you is
not afraid of a bit of pain when it is for the greater good," Baba
Yaga remarked.
Prince Jordan smiled as if he was trying to
hide a severe tooth-ache.
While the united witchcrafters were having a
relaxed conversation with royalty, in the village tavern a talk on
an entirely different topic was going on. The wife of Oscar the
castle servant had been listening to her husband as he told her
what Lindolf had told him. She agreed with Lindolf's words and now
was repeating her version of those among her friends that had
joined them at the table.
"Did you know," she said, "that there has
been a small army of dangerous large cats in the castle? It seems
that they almost tore up the gut of the king, and he was not able
to do anything about them."
"No!" many people exclaimed, hungry for more
details and preferably some bloodshed and other forms of
sensation.
"Yes!" said Sheila, Oscar's wife. "Even all
the witches that are now in the castle were helpless against these
animals!" The undivided attention of so many people made her
confident that 'improving' the words she'd heard from Oscar would
not be too bad. She was not aware that Oscar had done his own share
of enhancing himself. Well, maybe she was aware of that. In that
case she didn't care.
"Well, as long as they're in the castle, I'm
fine," a big man with a red nose and a grey tunic said, as he
raised his beer mug. "I'm not such a fan of the king anyway. They
can have 'm, and we get to keep the money we now pay in taxes." His
words were received with cheers from several sides; the number of
people who became interested in what went on at the table
increased.
In a dark corner sat a man in a dark cloak,
the hood far over his head. Lindolf. He smiled.
"Is it just me," another villager pitched in,
"or is it really a coincidence that these cat creatures started
going around after these witches and that strange wizard arrived at
the castle?" His words brought about a round of talking, yelling
and unfounded reasoning.
"No, can't be," someone said, "if they are
the reason for the cats to be there, why would they not be able to
keep them there?" Nobody seemed to find this statement worth
considering.
"What," someone said, "if these giant cats
come to the village? And what if they start taking our guts out?
Will you be cheering so loudly then?" This gave cause to another
discussion, of course. Someone said that the cats would not come as
there was nothing to get here; someone else pointed at the big gut
of the speaker and told him that the cats would be happy with some
of that, and then the inn-keeper had to do all he could, with all
his waitresses, to keep the place from being torn apart.