The Warlock is Missing

Chapter 4

"Yon, children." Puck pointed to the right-hand path, where the trail forked.

"Nay! 'Tis fraught with peril!" Kelly jabbed a finger at the left-hand path. "Yon is where ye should wend!"

Puck rounded on the leprecohen. "'Ware, elf! Constrain me not to flatten thee!"

"And what would ye be doing then?" Kelly said, glaring up at the bigger elf. "Smite me? Starve me? Banish me beyond the Pale? 'Twas ever the way of the tyrant!"

'Tyrant or not, thou'lt wear webbed feet and hop, an thou dost defy me more!"

"Puck," Cordelia pleaded, "do not…"

"Nay, lass! The elf is not welcome—yet an he will not help, he must not hinder!"

"Do yer worst!" Kelly cried. " 'Twas ever the way of your kind!"

Puck's eyes narrowed, and a fly buzzed by. Kelly's head snapped up, staring; then his hand shot out to snatch the insect out of the air. Witt a glad cry, he popped it toward his mouth —then froze, staring at his closed fist in horror. Slowly, he looked up at Puck.

The Puck grinned wickedly.

Kelly gulped, and plucked up his courage to glare again in defiance—but it wasn't convincing.

"Dost thou have a sudden hunger for flies, then?" Puck crooned. "Nay, fear not—the rest of thy body will change then, to fit it. Do thy shoes pinch? 'Tis naught of concern— only thy feet, spreading into frog's paddles."

With a howl, Kelly threw the fly from him, spreading his fingers and staring at his hand as though to reassure himself it wasn't growing webbing.

"Puck, thou must not!" Cordelia cried.

"Wouldst thou be a bully then?" Geoffrey demanded.

"Aye, assuredly he would," Kelly muttered. " 'Twas ever his way."

Puck's eyes narrowed.

Fess lowered his head to Kelly's level. "I would counsel caution as the better part of valor. Remember that the Puck delights in mischief."

Kelly nearly jumped out of his skin. He leaped about, staring up at the great black horse. "Begorra! Is it a talking horse, then?"

"A pouka." Puck eyed Fess askance. "A spirit horse— though 'tis a spirit of a different sort. It is made of cold iron, elf."

"Nay, surely it cannot be!" Kelly stared up at Fess, paling. "Poor, wee tykes! What greater peril could four children be in?"

"Why, he is our friend!" Gregory shot upward to wrap his arms around Fess's neck. "Our father's closest, and ours!".

Kelly didn't answer; he only cast an apprehensive glance at Puck.

The bigger elf smiled, with malice. "And wouldst thou worry about my poor self, then?"

"Nay, surely not!" Kelly drew himself up, color returning. "With so fell a beast by? And having wormed its way into their affections? Lead onward, elf! 'Tis the two of us must shield them, now!"

Puck grinned, and sauntered away down the right-hand path.

The path widened out into a little clearing, dappled with sunlight in shifting patterns as the shadows of the leaves moved gently in the breeze. The floor of the clearing was strewn with fallen leaves and underbrush, and three stumps, where woodcutters had felled oak trees.

An old woman poked about in the underbrush, muttering to herself. She wore a shabby brown dress and a shawl, with a gray kerchief tied around her head.

The unicorn came to a halt. Magnus hopped down off Fess's back and stepped forward. "What have we here, Robin?"

"A hermit matron, belike," the elf answered.

"I doubt not 'tis a poor beldame who found her friends had died, and none still living in her village gave her welcome," Kelly said. "Thus came she here, to live alone. There are many such."

The old woman looked up at the sound of voices, frowning. "Who comes?"

Magnus waited for Puck to answer, but he didn't hear a word.

"'Tis four bairns!" the crone snapped. "What dost thou here? Begone, now! Shoo!"

Magnus looked down at Puck for advice, but the elf was gone. He looked around, surprised, to find that Kelly had disappeared, too.

Cordelia leaned over to murmur in Magnus's ear, "They do not wish grown-ups to see them."

"Wilt thou not mind thine elders?" the old woman cried. "Begone, I say!" She snatched up a stick and threw it at them.

The unicorn shied, but Magnus reached out and caught the stick, frowning. "We've done naught that ye should scold us so." Then he remembered his manners. "Good day, good-wife."

" 'Goodwife,' is it?" the old woman spat. "Nay, never was I wife, nor would be! How is it even bairns do think a woman must needs marry? Nay, not old Phagia! I had no need of men—nor of any person! And of children least of all! Begone, I say!"

"If I've offended, I regret," Magnus said.

"Do not say so," Geoffrey snapped. "Ye've done naught to give offense!"

"Aye." Cordelia said, puzzled. "Wherefore should she hate us so, at first sight?"

"Dost'a not hear me?" the old woman screeched. "Go!" And she began to wade through the underbrush toward them, catching up sticks to throw.

Without even thinking, Cordelia stared at a stick. It leaped up into the air and flew away.

Phagia watched it go, eyes widening. But they narrowed as she looked down at the children. "So 'tis witch-brats come upon me, eh? Well, I've tricks of my own at hand!"

Suddenly, sticks burst from the floor of the clearing all around the children and shot toward them.

"Catch!" Magnus cried, and the sticks sailed on up over the treetops as all four children thought at them at the same time.

Phagia turned ashen. "What manner of warlock-lings are these, that do catch things with their thoughts? Only witches may do so!"

"Nevertheless, that power's ours, come to us from our father," Magnus explained.

"And wilt thou, then, bedevil a poor old woman with this power of thy sire's?" Phagia spat. "Nay, then! Contend with this!"

Nuts suddenly rained down on them, as though a thousand manic squirrels had jumped in for target practice.

"Ouch! Oh!" Cordelia wrapped her arms around her head and ducked. Her brothers howled with dismay; the nuts hit hard.

"We must meet this all as one!" Magnus cried. 'Together, now! Up!"

The other children squeezed their eyes shut and joined their thoughts to his, and the rain of nuts backed upward, away, leaving a dome of clear air about them, as though the small missiles were bouncing off a huge, invisible umbrella.

"Wilt thou then band against me?" Phagia snarled. "Nay, I must teach thee manners! Avaunt!"

Flames leaped up about the children, roaring toward them, leaving a wake of char behind.

"Be mindful!" Magnus shouted. "Fire's but the heat of molecules in motion! Slow them, still them! Make them cool!"

All four children stared at the flames, thinking tranquil thoughts, slowing movement, spreading it over a much wider area, transferring energy throughout the floor of the clearing. The day seemed to grow a little warmer, but the fire died.

Phagia stared at the smouldering char, appalled.

Magnus heard Geoffrey's thoughts: Brother, leave her or subdue her. An we do neither, she shall attack again.

Magnus nodded. We might then injure her as we fought back—and Mama and Papa would be angered.

Nor should we leave her free to follow, Geoffrey added.

Magnus agreed. "Let us do what we must."

Phagia's head snapped up, fear suddenly contorting her features. She lifted a clawlike hand—but Cordelia stared at the crone's feet, and they shot out from under her, whipping up level with her shoulders. She screeched; then her face hardened with determination and her feet slowly moved downward.

Cordelia bit her lip, face tightening with strain, and the witch's feet moved upward again. She howled with rage, and they steadied.

Magnus glanced at a vine that had wrapped itself up high, around a tree. It uncoiled, whirling backwards around and around the trunk, then groping out toward Phagia. Geoffrey frowned at it, and the vine broke off near its root, then whipped about the witch five times, pinning her arms to her sides. Phagia shrieked with horror, then clamped her jaw shut and heaved at the vine with all the strength of an adult mind. Sweat beaded Geoffrey's forehead as he fought to keep the vine in place—but as he did, Gregory reached out with mental fingers to whip the ends into a square knot. Phagia screeched, but Geoffrey relaxed with a smile. "Well done, tadpole."

" 'Tis well thou didst teach me that knot last Friday," lisped little brother.

"A pox upon thee!" old Phagia raved. "Thou knaves, thou curmudgeons! Hast thou naught else to do, but thou must needs torment a poor old beldame?"

"We did naught to trouble thee," Geoffrey contradicted.

"Nor would we have, hadst thou not turned upon us." Cordelia spoke more gently, trying to balance Geoffrey's contrariness.

"Turned upon thee! Eh! Innocent children, thou knowest not what those words do mean! Turn upon thee! Nay! But wait till thou hast had all the folk of a village come to chase thee, hounding thee from out thine home to harry thee throughout the countryside! Wait till they have caught thee, and bound thee to a ducking-stool, to sink thee in deep water, deprive thee of thy breath! Wait till thou dost feel thy lungs clamoring for air, till thou canst no longer bear it and must breathe, yet know thou'lt suck water in if thou dost—then they hale thee up into the air, at the last second, screaming, 'Vile witch, confess!' And thou dost not, for whosoe'er it was that did the wrong they've found, it was not thou! Yet they will blame thee, aye! Doth a cow's udder run dry? 'Twas thou who caused it! Did a sheep then sicken? 'Twas thou who cursed it! Did a child fall from out a hayloft? 'Twas thou who tripped him! It must be thou, it needs be thou—for naught but thou art a witch!"

"But we have not, we shall not!" Cordelia cried, pale and trembling. "We never would!"

'Tell that to these gentle souls who have lashed thee to the ducking-stool, and now plunge thee deep again! And if thou dost hold fast, and never dost confess to deeds thou hast not

done, they'll take thee off to torture thee, with fire and steel, till the pain, the agony, and the sight of thine own blood do so afright thee that thou dost cry at last, ' 'Twas I! 'Twas naught but I! Say what thou wilt have me say, and I will speak it! Only leave off thy hurting of me!"

Ashen-faced, Cordelia had clapped her hands over Gregory's ears, but he waved her away impatiently. "I'll but hear her thoughts as she doth speak them!" He looked up at Magnus "Can it truly be as she doth say?"

His brother nodded, face set and grim. "Mama and Papa have told us that the witches are ill-treated. Yet they've only hinted at such horrors!"

"Thy bold bluff peasants will do more than hint," Phagia assured him. "At the last, they'll lash thy torn and bleeding carcass to a stake, and pile fagots about thy feet, bundles of sticks as high as thy legs, and thrust a torch within them! Then wilt thou truly scream, as flames mount up to sear thee!" And she turned away, sobbing.

Cordelia faced her brothers, trembling with emotion. "Small wonder that Papa and Mama are so angered with folk who speak against witches!"

Magnus nodded, his face set like rock.

Gregory stepped forward shyly, and knelt by Phagia. "Is this why thou didst seek to chase us? Because thou didst fear we would summon folk to hurt thee?"

Phagia's head turned about, eyes staring at him. "Nay, little lad! Poor little lad! 'Tis from another cause—the one that made me hide myself away, where none would find me!"

Gregory frowned. "What cause is that?"

"Not the hurt that they did me," Phagia explained, "or that I did them; but hurt that was done to them because of me."

Gregory shook his head, not understanding.

"Done because of thee?" Magnus came up. "Who did it, then?"

"Lontar." She shuddered at the sound of the name. "Even in his youth, he had determined to work evil in every way he could. He courted me; 'Why should not two witch-folk wed?' quoth he. 'How much stronger will their wizardly get be!' Yet I knew him for what he was; his evilness fairly oozed from him; he reeked of it. 'No,' I said, and 'No,' again, and yet again; but he would not heed, till at last he sought to pursue me through my cottage door, and I slammed it into his face. He fell down, stunned, whiles I bolted the door and collapsed

against it, shaking. When he came to his senses, he could but rave—for warlocks cannot make locks move of themselves, praise Heaven!"

Gregory shared a quick glance with his two older brothers.

"What might he do then, but rail about my door? Yet that he did—and most puissantly. He laid a curse upon me, that anyone I might befriend would die, and in a fashion most horrible. I did credit him not; but within a fortnight, everyone I'd counted as a friend lay dead, and in a manner most repulsive. They lay… No!" She squeezed her eyes shut, clamping down on the thought before it could form fully in her mind. "I shall not speak of it to children!"

But enough of it came through to make the children glad she'd buried it—a brief, disgusting mental image of limbs, separate and partly flayed, bare bones sticking out. Even Geoffrey shuddered, and Cordelia gave a little cry before she pressed her hands against her mouth. Gregory let out one bleat of fright and dove into Cordelia's skirts. She hugged him, staring at the witch, who lay sobbing, struggling within herself. They could see her back and shoulders stiffen. "Nay! I will not! Children, thou hast mis-served me quite, stirring that foul memory up from the depths of my mind, where I had buried it!"

"We are most truly sorry," Cordelia murmured, and exchanged glances with her brothers. They pooled thoughts quickly, in a way that Mama had taught them; it kept anyone from outside the family from hearing them.

She could not be truly wicked.

Nay, not if she doth seek to hide this sight of horror from our minds.

In truth, she could not.

Aloud, Cordelia said, "Is that why thou didst seek to send us from thee?"

. Phagia nodded. "And 'tis why I came here to the forest. For seest thou, children, when I saw folk who'd been my friends from childhood lying dead in so repulsive a manner, I turned away, and resolved that never would I have a friend again. Deep into the forest I fled, and in its gloom I built mine hut—and oh, children, I assure thee, 'twas hard, so hard! I was a lass in the first bloom of womanhood, when folk most dearly need others, and I ached for company, and for young men's arms! Yet I did not weaken in my resolve; I stayed within my thicket—and oft did I bethink to seek mine end!"

"To slay thyself?" Cordelia gasped.

"Even so." Phagia nodded. "Yet I withstood temptation, and did live. Thus have I done for fifty years; here still I dwell, and my food is roots and berries, wild thyme, wild greens, and what little else that I may hunt or gather. Ever and anon comes one who would befriend me; yet have I spurned them, even as I sought to drive thee from me."

"Fear not," Magnus assured her, "we will be thy friends, aye, but only for some hours few. What harm could come to us in time so brief?"

"An we unbind thee," Cordelia asked, "wilt thou undertake not to harm us?"

Phagia swallowed her sobs and nodded.

Gregory stared at the knot of vine. Slowly, it untied itself.

Staring at it, Phagia sat up slowly.

The vine rose up, swaying, unwinding from about her.

"I thank thee," she breathed. "Yet heed the voice of wisdom, children. Flee! Get thee hence from me!"

"We shall bide only a short while," Magnus assured her.

"Fear not; we now are warned." Geoffrey grinned. "Let any dare seek to harm us!"

Phagia smiled in spite of her dread. "Four such doughty children must needs be proof against such evil." She shook her head in amazement. "Yet be mindful, thou art but bairns. How wilt thou fare against the power of a wizard grown?"

The children exchanged another glance. It wasn't necessary to remind each other not to tell her about the Witch of the Red Hill, or about the old sorcerer under the mountain. They all knew better than to let any grown-up learn about them. They'd never believe the children anyway—and if Mama and Papa ever found out, they'd be very upset.

"I think we may withstand such threats," Magnus said carefully.

"Nay, better." Geoffrey grinned like a wolf cub. "An we discover that foul wizard, let him guard himself!"

"Thou hast too much pride," Phagia chided. She stood up slowly, painfully, and brushed the dead leaves off her skirt. "Eh! But my bones ache with age!… Be not too unafraid, children. Beware—thou art but bairns."

"And we are hungry." Gregory tugged at her skirt. "Canst spare us morsels?"

Phagia looked down at him, and her face softened.

Then, with a wordless cry, she threw her arms wide. "What

matter? Mayhap 'tis even as thou dost say—mayhap thou art proof against the horror! Nay, let me for an hour or two enjoy thy company! Come, children—let's find food!'"

The children raised a cheer and followed her off through the woods as she hobbled away toward her hut.

But in the shadow of the leaves behind a root, two small figures exchanged glances, and shook their heads.

"She is truly a nice old dame." Gregory snuggled down under the blanket and closed his eyes.

"Ouch! Haul thine elbow from out my ribs!" Geoffrey snapped.

"I did not mean to." Gregory inched away from him.

"Then tell him thou art sorry," Magnus commanded from his other side.

"Sorry," Gregory sniffed.

The room was silent.

"Geoffrey…" Magnus said, with grim warning.

"Oh, well enough! 'Tis all right, Gregory," Geoffrey growled.

"She truly seemed to take delight in our guesting," Cordelia murmured from the narrow bed on the other side of the spare room.

"Aye, once she was satisfied she'd warned us, and done all she could to scare us away," Gregory agreed.

" 'Twas a good supper," Magnus sighed. "What meat was that the pie contained?"

"None," Cordelia said, with the complete certainty of the beginning cook. "'Twas naught but nuts and tubers, so cleverly combined the taste was like to fowl."

"Not foul at all." Gregory lifted his head, frowning. "'Twas good."

"Nay, wart," Magnus said fondly, "she means the bird, not the-bad."

"She's nice to guest us," Geoffrey sighed, "though I'd have liefer slept outdoors."

"Then go," Cordelia snorted. "I doubt not Robin and Kelly will guard thy slumber."

"Where have they gone?" Gregory pouted. "Want my elves!"

"They're nearby, I doubt not," Magnus reassured him. "They rarely wish grown-ups to see them."

"Kelly especially," Cordelia agreed. "Look what chanced

with him when last a grown one met him!"

"And what he lost," Magnus agreed. "Eh, Gregory?… Gregory!"

His little brother sighed deeply.

"He sleeps," Cordelia whispered. "A long day hath it been, for so small a fellow."

"And the bed is soft," Geoffrey agreed. "I could almost…" He broke off for a huge yawn.

Magnus smiled and held his peace, waiting. So did Cordelia.

Geoffrey finished the yawn with a smile and burrowed his head into the pillow. Two heartbeats later, he breathed lightly, evenly.

"Good night, sister," Magnus whispered.

"Good night," she answered.

The room was still.

Magnus jarred awake at a sharp pain in his nose. He could not breathe! He opened his mouth to yell, but something rough jammed into it—woolen cloth! He leaped out of bed, or tried to, but his arms and legs pressed against something holding them down. Rope! He was bound and gagged!

Phagia's face loomed over him in the moonlight, mouth hooked upward in glee. She gave off a high, thin giggle, nodding—but there was something odd about her eyes, as though they weren't quite focused, seeing Magnus but not really registering him.

"Art chilled?" she cackled. "Fear not; thou'lt be warm soon enough." And she turned away and went out the door, giggling still.

Rigid with fear, Magnus lay still and reached out with his mind, listening for his brothers' and sister's thoughts. The room seemed to darken even more, and the clattering old Pha-gia was making in the next room dulled. Just barely, he could make out their thoughts, too fuzzily to tell what they were thinking, but enough to know they were there. He forced his head up and looked about. Dimly, by moonlight, he could just make them out—bound and gagged, even as he was.

He lay back, feeling sweat start to bead his forehead, and fought for calm. Really, there was nothing to worry about. What if she had bound him? He'd just think at the knots and untie them!

But the rope wouldn't move.

Magnus closed his eyes and concentrated furiously on the knot. He felt it twitch, barely, but that was all. He gave up and sagged back on the bed, feeling the sweat of fear trickle down his cheek. What horrible spell had Phagia worked on him? And on his brothers and sisters, too, no doubt!

Then he remembered the supper—the vegetable stew that had tasted so wonderful, and that his sister had assured them had-contained no meat. What had it contained, though? What herb had Phagia discovered in her fifty years in the forest, that could dull the senses of a warlock and rob him of his powers?

Phagia was singing, some odd, irregular tune that slid up and down from one off-key note to another. Pots and pans rattled, and he heard a long creak of an unoiled hinge. He remembered the sound from supper—it was the oven door. He heard the scratch of flint and steel, heard the gentle gusting of the bellows, heard Phagia's giggle. "Warm, yes. Nice and warm, for the poor chilled children. And sauce. Young ones never like any meat, if it hath not a good sauce." And she broke off into the weird humming again, as liquid poured and a wooden spoon knocked against the side of a pot.

Her sarcasm chilled Magnus, the words and tone of a kind old granny contrasted with what she meant to do. He understood the evil sorcerer's curse suddenly and clearly—exactly what disgusting form of death Phagia's friends had met!

Cordelia. Gregory. He couldn't let them be killed, shoved into an oven for an old witch's gluttony!

Or an ancient sorcerer's revenge. It was Gregory's thought, so faint Magnus could barely understand it—and, in a sudden wave of understanding, he realized the youngest was right. She knoweth not what she doth, he thought as hard as he could.

Aye, certes, came Cordelia's faint thought. That glazed look in her eye—her soul's asleep! ■ - Only her body wakes, Gregory agreed.

'Twill suffice to make mutton of us, Geoffrey thought— harshly, to mask his fear. What can we do?

A shadow blocked the light from the kitchen, and Phagia came back in, crooning, "Ah, the poor wee lad! So chilled in his bed! Nay, he must be wanned ere the others." And she went across the room, to scoop Gregory up in her arms.

Sheer terror cut through the fog of drug, and Gregory howled through his gag as his mind shouted, Magnus! Cordelia! Geoffrey! Aid me!

Fear and rage galvanized his brothers and sister, and they thought blows against the old witch—but the drug dimmed their powers; Phagia only wavered as she stood up and turned, cradling Gregory in her arms. "Dizziness! Oh!" She stood still for a moment, eyes squeezed shut. Then they opened, and she smiled. "'Tis past. Now, lad—let us prepare dinner." And she hobbled toward the kitchen.

Magnus thought mayhem at her again, but she tripped on something more substantial—and, just as she tripped, something small and dark shot through the air and slammed into her shoulder blades. With a scream, she toppled…

And Gregory sailed out of her arms, straight toward the open oven.

His thoughts screamed as he stared at the oven in terror.

As one, his brothers and sister reached out with their minds to pull at him.

He slowed, coming gradually to a halt, mere inches from the oven door.

Magnus breathed a sigh of relief, then thought, Down, now, and slowly.

Gently, carefully, they lowered the little boy to the floor.

In the bedroom doorway, Phagia struggled to lever herself up off the floor. A small shadow loomed up by her head, slamming downward with a miniature hammer. It connected with a dull CLUNK! and Phagia slumped, with a tired sigh.

The small shadow chuckled, then looked up at Magnus. It was Kelly—and he sprang up to Magnus's bed and yanked the gag out of the boy's mouth. "Well, lad! Ye're safe, then— but 'twas a near one."

'Too near by half," Magnus agreed. "My deepest thanks, Kelly." He turned to the larger shadow. "And thou, Robin. Great thanks for fair rescue!"

"Great welcome," the elf replied, but his face was severe. "What could I have said to thy parents, had I brought thee home roasted? Yet, now!" He glowered at Magnus, then turned his head to glare at Cordelia and Geoffrey as the gags pulled themselves out of the children's mouths. "What have happed to thee, hadst thou not had thine elf nearby?"

"Death," Cordelia answered, round-eyed.

"True death." Puck nodded. "Not children's play, from which thou couldst arise and walk. Now, when next thine elf bids thee retreat from danger, what wilt thou do?" And he turned his glare on Geoffrey.

"We will heed thee." The middle boy gazed back at Puck with the weight of realization. "I will own, now—there be perils that be too great for children—even we four!"

"We will obey thee," Magnus agreed. "We will heed even thy doubts, Robin."

Puck glowered at them—but he couldn't maintain it; his seriousness frayed, and mischief gleamed through.

The children saw, and relaxed with a shaky sigh. "Eh, Puck!" Magnus cried, "we feared thou wert truly enraged with us!"

"Which did no harm, I warrant." Puck turned and went over to Cordelia. "What is this stuff that muffled thy thoughts, child? Doth it wear thin?"

"Let me try." She stared at the rope that bound her wrists. The ends twitched, then began to draw back out of the knot— but slowly, so slowly! "We do recover."

"Not quickly enow." Puck seized the rope and whisked the knot loose. "Unbind them, Tacky!"

"I'll thank ye to remember yer manners, Barkface," the leprecohen retorted. "If ye ever learned any, that is," but he poked long fingers into Geoffrey's bonds and untied him in a trice.

Magnus wrenched his hands loose and seized his dagger. He cut through the rope that bound his ankles and leaped up to go to his little brother—and stumbled, nearly falling; but he caught the door frame in time., He yowled at the pain of the tingling in his ankles.

"Aye, the blood is angry at having been dammed from its normal course," Puck agreed. "Patience; it will return."

"There's scant time for patience." Magnus hobbled over to Gregory. "She may wake at any moment."

"No fear," Kelly assured him. "I've still a hammer."

But Magnus had untied Gregory, and the little boy flung his arms around his big brother's neck. "There, there, lad," Magnus crooned. " 'Twas horrid, but 'tis done."

"Hammer or not, 'twould be well to be gone," Puck said. "I hate all housen in clear weather—and this one reeks of evil. Come, children!"

He turned away to the door, and Geoffrey and Cordelia followed him with a very good will. But Magnus sent Gregory after them with a pat on the bottom, then turned back toward Phagia, frowning.

Puck turned back too, nettled. "Nay, lad! Come away!"

"She's but stunned," Magnus answered. "I bethink me we need her to be senseless for a longer time."

Cordelia looked up, alarmed. "What dost thou, brother?"

But the eldest was staring at the witch.

"What doth he?" Geoffrey demanded.

Gregory touched his shoulder. "Peace. He pushes thoughts of sleep into her mind."

Geoffrey's face hardened with envy. Magnus had been able to project his thoughts for a year now, but Geoffrey still couldn't. He had better sense than to make a jealous fuss at a moment like this, though.

The witch's eyes suddenly snapped open in surprise. Then they blinked, several times. She stiffened in alarm, realizing what was happening to her—but Gregory and Geoffrey caught hold of Magnus's hands, channeling their own strength into him; and slowly, Phagia's eyes closed. Her body relaxed, and her bony chest rose and fell with the slow rhythm of sleep.

"Well done, my brothers," Cordelia murmured.

"Softly," Magnus cautioned. "Her sleep is not yet deep."

"Come, now," Puck urged. "It doth behoove us to leave, and let her sleep."

"All away, then." Magnus stepped back to wave the others past him. "Whiles we may, without unpleasantness." He looked up suddenly, then whirled back to the bedroom. "Gregory!"

The youngest hovered above old Phagia, sitting cross-legged in midair, frowning down at the sleeping witch's face. "Big brother… there's something odd within her mind…"

Puck and Cordelia looked back over their shoulders, and both his brothers stilled. "Odd?" Magnus breathed. "What oddity is that?"

"Nay, I catch his meaning!" Cordelia leaped back to the old witch. " 'Tis some manner of compulsion, buried!"

"Cordelia!" Magnus cried in alarm.

Phagia stirred in her sleep, muttering.

Magnus instantly lowered his voice. "Beware!" he called in hushed tones. "Have thy broomstick by thee!"

"Oh, fuss not so!" Cordelia hissed back. "There's no danger—and were there, thou couldst lift me away right quickly. Now—leave me be a moment, the whiles I peek within her mind." And she knelt stock-still, staring down into the sleeping woman's face.

"Thou wilt heed thine elf this time!" Puck said by her shoulder. "Away, child! There is danger, deep in people's minds!"

"I misdoubt me an 'tis so deep as all that," Cordelia murmured. "Dost'a not recall, Puck, that Northern sorcerer who didst cast compulsions on all soldiers who came against him? Mama taught me then, how to break such spells."

"Well… mayhap, then…" Puck frowned and watched.

Cordelia gazed at the sleeping witch. Her brothers gathered around, watching silently. After awhile, she shuddered. " 'Tis vile! That foul sorcerer must needs have a gutter for a mind!"

"What did he?" Magnus asked softly.

"He tied friendship through her childhood urges in her nether parts to her need to eat—they merge at our ages. And those she loved—her mother and father—had denied her sweets when she wanted them, as all parents must, if they do not wish their children to fall ill—and she'd grown angry at that denial, as all children do. Since she loved them, that anger turns against all who befriend her, and she eats to gain revenge on her mama and papa."

"Doth she know any of this?" Geoffrey cried in indignation.

"Shhh!" Cordelia cautioned, and Phagia stirred in her sleep.

Magnus clapped a hand over Geoffrey's mouth.

"She knoweth naught," Cordelia whispered, "even as we thought. He cast a spell into her mind, in that way Papa calls 'hypnosis.' When she waked from the trance he made, she remembered naught—but in her sleep, the spell comes on her again, whene'er she's near a friend. Her deeds tonight were like to sleepwalking."

"Canst thou break the spell?" Magnus asked.

"Aye. 'Tis deeper than the sorcerer Alfar's, but not so deep that I cannot find its roots. Come, nubbin, lend me power." She caught Gregory's hand and gazed at Phagia. Gregory frowned, too, in intense concentration.

Geoffrey and Magnus were silent, watching. Puck's face was screwed up with worry, and he stood tense, ready to leap to aid if he was needed.

Phagia stirred in. her sleep, muttering a stream of words that the boys couldn't quite understand. Her body twitched a few times, stiffened, then suddenly relaxed. She breathed a deep sigh.

So did Cordelia, leaning back and going limp. "'Twas a sore trial, that."

"There was danger!" Puck accused.

Cordelia shook her head. "Only in that I might tire—but Gregory's strength was enough to lean on. And he sensed weakened points that I could break. 'Tis done; she'll not seek to bake another. She'll wake well rested, and with a greater sense of well-being than e'er she's had." She dropped her face into her hands, shuddering. "But, oh! That any could be so evil as to wreak such havoc in a person's mind, as that fell Lontar did!"

"Doth he still live?" Geoffrey's face had hardened.

Cordelia shrugged, but Kelly said, "He may. Word of such an one doth run through fairy gossip, now and again. Yet none know where he dwelleth."

"Well, we are warned." Magnus turned to Puck. "An we come near him, Robin, we'll be fully on our guard. This magus, at least, is naught to trifle with."

"And merits death." Geoffrey's eyes glowed. "An we encounter him, brother, take no chance. We'll smite him down, ere he can know we're by."

"Nay, surely thou wilt not!" Puck glared up at the boy, his fists on his hips. "Thou wilt not encounter him, be certain! For thou wilt now march home right quickly! Out the door! Off down the path! At once!"

Geoffrey glowered down at him in rebellion.

Magnus touched his shoulder. "Be mindful… webbed feet…"

Geoffrey looked up, appalled. Then he sighed and capitulated. "'Tis even as thou sayest, Puck. Anything thou sayest."

"Home," Gregory chirped.