One Witch at a Time Read online

  Petz was the edge of the world, or so it seemed. It was the last outpost in the mountains—a place more forbidding even than the Berg, if such a thing were possible—shrouded in cold shadow and in mystery. Travelers were obliged to journey past the province of Petz if they wanted to gain entry to the foreign lands beyond the mountains. But few people ventured so far, and Rudi knew of no one who ever ventured to Petz by choice. The place was so desolate, and so brutally exposed to the elements, that it lay encrusted in everlasting ice—ice that all but imprisoned its inhabitants. Or so the stories went.

  A dozen questions swirled in Rudi’s head, and he didn’t know which to ask first.

  Susanna Louisa had no such trouble. “There’s another witch?” she blurted. “And he’s a he?”

  The old woman tossed the pouch aside. “Certainly there’s another witch. There’s many. One for each province of the world, I expect. As for being a he, why not? In Petz he’s called by many names. Witch-king. Conjurer. Hexenmeister. Some simply calls him the Giant. Call him what you please, but he’s a witch, same as me, and his realm is Petz, and his magic has no business on my mountain.”

  “I knew it,” declared Susanna. “They are magic beans!”

  Rudi’s breath caught in his throat. Did Susanna Louisa have a talent for spotting magic, after all?

  “They’re magic, right enough.” The witch scowled. “That keyhole is his mark.” She slid out of her chair and began to pace the room.

  Remembering that this was how the Brixen Witch preferred to do her thinking, Rudi nudged Susanna, who shifted on the rug to give the old woman room to think properly.

  “His mark?” asked Susanna Louisa.

  The witch waved toward the pouch on the table. “ ’Tis how he knows them things that hold his magic.”

  Rudi sat up straighter. Perhaps Susanna had a talent for spotting magic, but Rudi had something she didn’t have. He had experience. “You mark your magic too, mistress. Your magical possessions sing to you.”

  The old woman lifted her chin. “ ’Tis how a clever witch does it. How else can one know when one’s magic has been stolen?” She continued her pacing.

  Susanna Louisa’s eyes grew wide. “That foreign girl stole the magic beans?”

  Rudi felt a curious need to defend the red-haired shearling girl. “Perhaps she simply found them,” he ventured. “Perhaps she didn’t know they were magic.” He pulled at his collar. “Anyone could make that mistake.”

  The witch raised an eyebrow at Rudi. “Accidental thievery is thievery all the same.” She shook her head. “No witch gives up magic willingly. Not even that second-rate witch from Petz.”

  “Oh well,” said Susanna brightly. “It seems the beans are yours now, mistress. I should think they’d come in handy for someone such as yourself.”

  The fire sputtered and waned in the grate, casting the room into shadow once more. Rudi could scarcely make out the witch’s shape, but her voice was clear and cold.

  “Firstly,” she said, a disembodied voice in the gloom, “I does not want—nor need—extra magic. I has fared quite well these last few hundred years with the magic I has.” Now the flames sprang up once more as the witch stirred the fire with a poker. “Secondly, those beans are not mine to keep. There’s only so much magic in the world, and misplaced magic is trouble. Things gets thrown out of balance.” She tossed the poker into the corner with a clang. “That magic does not belong in Brixen. It belongs to the witch of Petz, and I fear he may be reckless enough to come looking for it.”

  Rudi scratched his ear. “Why not let him come, then, and be done with it? If he’s a second-rate witch, perhaps he won’t cause trouble. Perhaps he’ll just take his beans and go home.”

  The witch resumed her pacing. “Second-rate witches is the worst kind, on account of they doesn’t know they’re second-rate. No. Magic crossing borders is trouble enough. But a witch?” She shuddered. “ ’Tis strictly forbidden. Two witches in one province and none in the other? Disaster.”

  Rudi heard a distant rumble of thunder outside the mountain. Or perhaps the mountain itself was rumbling.

  “One witch at a time,” came a voice. It was Susanna Louisa.

  The witch stopped midpace. “How’s that?” Her eyes bore into the girl, and Rudi felt a pang of sympathy for Susanna.

  But Susanna did not shrink from the witch’s gaze. “It sounds like magic has rules. And that’s one of them. One witch at a time.”

  The witch’s face crinkled, and she waggled a finger at Susanna. “Clever girl.”

  Rudi’s mouth dropped open. He had a vague sense of feeling both pleased and unnerved at the same time. He blinked at Susanna Louisa, and then he shook himself. Susanna may have had a sudden eruption of cleverness, but he had already earned the Brixen Witch’s trust and respect. Didn’t that count for something?

  Rudi tried to word his next question just so. “Mistress? If that’s the rule—one witch at a time—then what happens when a witch . . . er . . .”

  “Dies?” She spoke so quickly that Rudi wondered if she had read his mind.

  Rudi gulped. “Or otherwise . . . abandons her post?”

  The witch added a log to the fire. “Certainly it happens from time to time. A witch grows too old, or meets a bad end. And so another witch must come forward to take her place. But not until such time.” She shut the grate and brushed her hands clean.

  “Are you too old, mistress?” blurted Susanna Louisa.

  “Ha! I’ll be here another thousand years at least. And I has no plans to meet a bad end, neither.”

  Rudi couldn’t imagine anyone ever planning to meet a bad end. “Where does a new witch come from?” he asked. “Is there someone always at the ready, just in case?”

  The witch settled into her chair once more and folded her hands on her chest. “ ’Tis usually the person who is most ready at the time. Someone with a natural gift for magic, but you both knows that’s not as rare a gift as one might think.” Her small eyes bore into Rudi, and then Susanna, causing them both to squirm uncomfortably. “Of course, ’tis one thing to recognize the magic in a bean, for instance, or to confer with witches. ’Tis another thing entirely to perform an enchantment of your own, or to disarm an enchantment already put forth. Skill of that kind is rare indeed. ’Tis customarily such a person who becomes a witch.”

  Rudi thought about this. “Could we—Er, could anyone with a gift for magic learn such skills?”

  The witch raised an eyebrow. “ ’Tis the same as anything else, I suppose. Milking a cow. Baking elderberry tarts. Most anyone can learn such skills. But some folk learns better than other folk, through practice, or because it comes more naturally.” She rummaged on her little table until she found the package of elderberry tarts. “And then, of course, such a person must be willing to take on a burden of untold immensity for uncountable years.” She took a satisfied bite of tart.

  “It sounds simple enough,” said Susanna Louisa brightly.

  Rudi stared at her. The words were simple enough, it was true. But the actual requirements seemed nearly impossible.

  “ ’Tis a choice,” said the Brixen Witch, brushing the crumbs from her lap. She snatched up the little pouch. “Now to the matter at hand. Someone must return this errant magic to Petz before it causes trouble beyond repair.” She eyed Rudi up and down, as if taking the measure of him. “And now you know the rules,” she said, “so you know it cannot be myself.”

  Rudi’s stomach fluttered. “Mistress,” he said, “they say that Petz is three days’ journey through the mountains, at least. And that’s in good weather!”

  The witch waved a hand. “The nearest settlement is three days’ journey, aye. But the border is an hour’s climb at most. From there you can take the shortcut.” She stood and laid a hand on Rudi’s shoulder. “ ’Tis a treacherous task, young Rudolf. The choice must be yours. Still, there’s no one I’d sooner send than Gussie’s own grandson.”

  Rudi considered her words. She
was counting on him. Was he not equal to the task? He would make the Brixen Witch—and Oma—proud of him. Besides, he decided, how much trouble could a second-rate witch really be?

  Before he could change his mind, he lifted himself from the little stool and shook out his stiff legs. “I—we—will go.” It seemed that Susanna Louisa was meant to accompany him on any errand the witch might have. At any rate, he could not leave Susanna behind. Even a witch might soon arrive at the limits of aggravation if left alone with Susanna Louisa for very long. Nor could he send her home alone. She would have to come with him.

  “ ’Tis decided, then,” said the Brixen Witch, tossing the pouch to Rudi. “Carry this infernal pile of trouble back to where it belongs. But do it proper. Return the beans to the Giant’s lair, deep within the province of Petz.” She handed Susanna her coat. “Except for one bean. Bury a single bean at the border—if you wants to come home again, which I imagine you do.”

  “Yes,” squeaked Rudi, who was beginning to wonder if he’d agreed to the errand too quickly. “What will the bean do?”

  The old woman gave Rudi his knapsack and water skin. “The witch of Petz enchants his borders so that no one can leave his province unless he permits it. The magic in a single bean will be enough to break the enchantment, at least in that place.” She settled Rudi’s cap onto his head. “Even so, it’s best you not let the hexenmeister know you’re visiting.”

  Rudi nearly tripped over his own boots. “We’re supposed to go all the way to the Giant’s lair and back again without the Giant’s knowing?”

  “Quite so,” answered the witch, patting him on the cheek. “If you wants to come home again.”

  “How will we find the Giant’s lair?” asked Susanna, buttoning her coat.

  “You’re a clever lass, are you not?” With that, the witch ushered them out the door. “Off with you now! Look for the shortcut. But mind, rules is rules. Once you cross the border, you’ll be on your own. I has no power in Petz.”

  And then she was gone, shut again inside the mountain.

  8

  They stood squinting in the shade of the mountain crevice.

  Rudi hitched up his pack and adjusted his cap, and they stepped into the sunshine and onto the path leading upward, toward the very peak of the Berg. He had to trust that once they reached the border, they would be able to find the shortcut.

  The Brixen Witch was on their side, he reminded himself. She would not send them into Petz unless they were armed with everything they needed.

  “I wasn’t afeared of the witch, was I, Rudi? We had a proper conversation, didn’t we?”

  “Yes, Susanna,” Rudi admitted. “You did very well.” And despite himself, Rudi felt proud of her.

  She smiled broadly. “Thank you, Rudi. I’m glad she will be here another thousand years.”

  “So am I,” said Rudi, and he meant it.

  And so they climbed. Here there was no real path to speak of—only a narrow, trickling streambed strewn with rocks. Trying not to slip, they picked their way along, climbing ever higher.

  Susanna Louisa was the first to see the signpost.

  “Look, Rudi!” She pointed toward a gray and weather-beaten post rising into view as they approached the peak of the mountain. Onto the post had been affixed a gray and weather-beaten plank of wood. Burned there in neat letters with a steady hand, and with an arrow pointing in the direction from which they had come, was the word BRIXEN. Beneath it, with an arrow pointing onward, black gashes spelled out PETZ.

  The border.

  They were standing at the very summit of the Berg. Here the ground fell away in all directions. There was nothing to break the force of the icy wind, and even the sun’s warmth was swept away. In the distance lay the mountains beyond the Berg, a range of peaks Rudi had never seen. Clouds darkened the sky above the distant peaks, as if a storm were gathering but dared not breach the mountains.

  The ground on the Petz side of the signpost was covered in a thick layer of ice that stopped abruptly at the border, leaving no doubt where Brixen ended and Petz began. Rudi had seen ice fields such as this before; they were a common feature of the mountain landscape. But to think that this particular body of ice seemed to know where it belonged—and where it did not—made Rudi shiver.

  Or perhaps it was only the wind.

  Still, one thing was abundantly clear: a single step onto the ice, and they would leave behind the province of Brixen and enter the enchanted province of Petz. And, Rudi reminded himself, they would be beyond the help of the Brixen Witch.

  “I don’t see any shortcut!” Susanna shouted above the wind. She stepped toward the edge of the ice.

  “Wait!” Rudi flung out an arm to block Susanna’s way. “The border is enchanted, remember? We have to plant a bean first.” And so he took one bean from the pouch and knelt on the rocky ground beside the signpost. With his pocketknife he chipped a tiny hole at the edge of the ice. He dropped the bean snugly into the hole, where its keyhole mark stared at him like an unblinking eye. He covered the bean with a stone.

  “How will we know if the bean has broken the enchantment?” said Susanna.

  Rudi shrugged. They wouldn’t know, he supposed, until they had stepped across the border, and then it would be too late anyway. They had to trust the Brixen Witch.

  And then, despite the wind, Rudi thought he heard a muffled rumbling. A moment later, the ground beneath their feet trembled ever so slightly. The trembling continued, and grew steadily stronger, and the rumbling filled their ears.

  “Rudi?” came Susanna Louisa’s voice in a harsh squeak.

  Now the ground shook so violently that Rudi was sure the entire mountain would crumble away beneath them. He grabbed Susanna’s hand and crouched with her in the narrow space between two boulders. There was nothing he could do but squeeze his eyes shut, hold tightly to Susanna, and wait for the world to end. Silently he cursed his own foolishness. It was one thing to volunteer himself, but what choice had Susanna been given? He was responsible for her. And now he had brought her to this treacherous place at the top of the world.

  Then, as quickly as it had started, the noise and shaking ceased. Even the wind quieted. They crouched for a long moment, not daring to move. Finally Rudi opened one eye, and then the other.

  The world had not ended. The mountain had not gone crashing down. The signpost still loomed above their heads, pointing toward home in one direction, and in the other direction toward the frozen unknown.

  But something had changed. The light seemed paler somehow, as if a cloud had passed over the sun.

  Perhaps it was an illusion. Perhaps Rudi had shut his eyes too tightly for too long, and now they were playing tricks on him. Gathering his courage, he pried Susanna Louisa’s arms from around his waist and peered from behind the rocks.

  He gasped.

  Susanna Louisa peered out too, and her mouth dropped open. “The magic, Rudi. It’s happening!”

  And so it was. Out of the ground had erupted a tangled green net of sturdy shoots, unfurling leaves, and twirling tendrils. Rudi watched, stunned, as tiny white flowers blossomed on the vines, and then faded and dropped, giving way to—

  “Bean pods,” Rudi breathed.

  The vines quivered and swayed. They reached long fingers up the signpost, twisting and winding around the weathered wood until they crept across the sign itself, obliterating the word BRIXEN and all indication of home. Finally, the sheer weight of the vines cracked the post at its base. With a creaky sigh, the signpost fell to the ground.

  And still the vines grew skyward, a dense green network of tendrils that grasped nothing but air. Soon the bean plant was wider than Rudi could spread his arms, and twice his height . . . three times his height . . . Though Rudi and Susanna stood on the very peak of the Berg, the vine grew higher, and higher still.

  Rudi craned his neck and shaded his eyes, but he could not see the top of the vine.

  “Look, Rudi!” said Susanna, pointing toward the broken
signpost. Only the gashed word PETZ remained uncovered, and its arrow now pointed toward the sky.

  Rudi and Susanna blinked at each other, and then said the word together.

  “Shortcut.”

  9

  They stood together in the stillness, heads back, mouths open, and eyes wide.

  “Is it safe, Rudi?”

  Rudi wondered the same thing. But before he could answer, there came a fluttering sound. Susanna ducked and covered her head, apparently expecting another upheaval of the earth. But Rudi pointed at the ice. “Look! It’s only a bird.”

  And so it was. A snow finch, one of the tiny, fragile creatures that somehow managed to survive on the upper reaches of the mountain. With a flurry of its black-and-buff wings, it swooped up from the ice field and alighted on the vine, picking at a tender green pod.

  “He’s hungry, poor thing,” observed Susanna as the finch flitted among the vines. It plucked another pod and fluttered with it to the ice.

  Susanna tugged at a braid. “Do you see that, Rudi? Even the birds of Petz don’t dare to cross the enchanted border.”

  “I can’t imagine a second-rate witch would concern himself with a bird,” answered Rudi absently, for he had noticed something else. “Look. The vine has an opening.” He stepped closer to the beanstalk. “It’s really a whole network of vines, woven together into a kind of tunnel. A tunnel that goes up.”

  “I see it,” said Susanna in wonderment. “This really is the shortcut, then? Petz is in the sky?”

  Rudi reached out and tried to shake the beanstalk. It was as solid as an oak tree. “I suppose we’ll find out soon enough.”

  And yet he could not quite bring himself to start climbing. He wished he could leave the bean pouch on the ice and return home now.

  Do it proper, the Brixen Witch had told him. Rudi and Susanna would have to find the Giant’s dwelling place and deliver the beans there. It would be the only way to know the magic was safely back where it belonged.