by E. D. Baker
“What is it? Is something wrong?” asked Boris.
“Nothing’s wrong,” Serafina told him. “It’s just that you were looking a little dingy, but now, well … I’ve never seen such a brilliant white before. You really look quite handsome, Boris.”
“This is an outrage!” declared Boris. “I told you I didn’t … Did you say brilliant?”
“It almost hurts my eyes to look at you,” said Serafina. “I can only imagine what you’ll look like in the dark. Of course, you’d look even better if I could polish your front, too.”
“Well,” said Boris, “since you’ve started, you might as well finish. Just be careful around my eye sockets. They’re my best feature.”
“He’s letting you do it?” said Krany. His mouth opened so wide in disbelief that his bottom jaw dropped off. “Unh!” he groaned, tilting himself so he could see where his jawbone had landed in the grass.
Glancing at the incredulous skull, Serafina said, “I’ll pick that up as soon as I finish with Boris.”
“I knew something bad would happen if you polished us,” cried Yure. “My grandfather always said, ‘Never let a woman with a polishing cloth come near your naked skull.’ ”
“He did not say that,” said Boris, angling himself so Serafina could get all the right spots. “He wouldn’t have said anything like that unless he was bald, and you told me that all the men in your family had lots of hair.”
“Well, he would have said it if he’d thought of it! Look at poor Krany. He must be really suffering.”
Krany nodded and tried to talk. “Hunh hunh hunh hunh.”
“Maybe I should help him now,” said Serafina, stepping back from Boris.
Boris tilted himself to glance at her. “No! Don’t stop! You’re almost finished. I’m sure Krany’s fine. Don’t believe a word he says.”
“I don’t think he’s said any actual words,” Serafina told Boris as she began to apply more polish.
“Brilliant white, huh?” said Boris. “Just think, all those years I didn’t want that stuff near me.”
“And you called me a fool,” Yure grumbled. “Don’t forget,” he told Serafina. “I’m next!”
By the time Serafina finished polishing the skulls, the sun was setting. She went inside to feed Maks and make her supper. When she was cleaning up afterward, she opened the door to let the cat out and overheard the skulls talking.
“She’s not half-bad, you know, for a slip of a girl who has no idea what she’s doing,” said Krany.
“Are you kidding? She polished Boris! No one’s ever done that before!”
“She polished all of us. You should see your face, Yure! It glows in the dark!”
“We all glow in the dark, Krany. Yourself included! I think it’s kind of creepy.”
“I like her,” Boris announced. “She’s taken to the job better than most, even though she didn’t want it. I just hope she’s doing as well in a few years.”
“Years?” Serafina murmured, a cold knot forming in her stomach.
The next morning, Serafina sat at the table nursing a cup of cider while thinking about the people she’d met. In the beginning, she had dreaded answering questions, afraid of what she might say. The first time a man asked if his wife was trustworthy, he had stormed off in an awful temper when Serafina told him the truth. Another time a woman asked if she would ever have children and wept when she heard that she would die childless. Serafina soon learned that such moments were offset by the joyful news that she gave out, like the future birth of a much-wanted son to a kind couple or the knowledge that a loved one would overcome an illness and live a long and happy life. It frustrated her when people asked frivolous questions, such as the woman who wanted to know if she was a better cook than her mother-in-law or the man who asked which horse he should bet on in the next holiday’s race, but she soon decided that it was their question to waste. Sometimes she wished that she could tell them to change their question, but nothing seemed to affect what they asked or what answers she gave.
Serafina yelped when Maks jumped onto her lap with his claws out. “Ow!” she exclaimed as there came a knock on the door. She glanced up when she heard another soft knock. “You didn’t have to do that,” she told the cat as she got to her feet.
“Yes, I did,” Maks replied, examining his claws as he flexed them. “You looked like you were daydreaming and didn’t notice when your next guest started knocking.”
Serafina was surprised when she opened the door and found a girl no older than twelve standing with her hand raised, ready to knock again. The girl was the closest to Serafina’s own real age of anyone who had come to visit her, and just seeing her was enough to remind Serafina of everything she had lost.
“I came to ask you my question. I brought you some flowers. See!” the girl said, holding out a bouquet of blossoms picked from a meadow. “I know we’re supposed to bring something, but this is all I could think of.”
Serafina gave herself a mental shake as if waking from a dream. “The flowers are fine, but you do realize that you can ask me only one question your entire life, don’t you? Are you sure you want to ask me your question now?”
The girl nodded and shook the flowers at Serafina. “It’s a very important question. It’s about my mother. She’s sick, you see, and—”
Serafina held up her hand. “Wait until you’ve come inside. I prefer to answer important questions while sitting down.”
The girl followed Serafina into the cottage and took a seat at the table. Serafina could feel the girl’s eyes on her as she poured her guest a cup of cider and sat down. The girl seemed agitated, and Serafina wanted to help her calm down before she asked her question. A few people were so nervous when they visited that it was hard to get a coherent question out of them, let alone the one they really wanted answered.
The girl picked up the cup, then set it down again without taking a sip. “My name is Dielle,” the girl said, as if she could no longer stand the silence. “My mother’s name is—”
“You don’t need to tell me any names,” said Serafina.
Dielle fidgeted with the cup, turning it around and around in her hands. “I know, but I thought it might make you want to help us if you knew more about us.”
“I’ll answer your question the same way whether I know anything about you or not. Go ahead, you can ask it now.”
Dielle pushed the cup away. “As I said, my mother is very sick. She’s getting worse every day. My father died when I was a baby, so it’s just the two of us. I don’t know what I’d do if …” Dielle swallowed hard and wiped her eyes with her knuckles. “What can I do to help my mother get better?”
“Go to see Doctor Tesar in Stary Smokevec,” Serafina said in the voice that wasn’t quite hers. “He knows of something that will help your mother live longer and in less pain. The doctor will ask for more gold than can be found in your entire village. Tell him that you don’t have the gold, but that I sent you to him. Tell him I said that if he helps your mother, I will answer his question. If he does not, I will leave and he will never get the chance.”
Dielle frowned in concentration. “I’ll go today,” she said. “Do you know where Stary Smokevec is?”
Serafina shook her head. “No, I don’t. Sorry,” she said in her own voice.
“Oh, right. That was my second question.” Dielle stood with a sigh. “Thank you. Now I know what to do. I just have to find out how to get there.”
Serafina got to her feet and crossed to her cupboard. “Here,” she said, taking a few coins from her own supply. “You can use this to pay your way.”
The girl smiled shyly as she took the coins. “Thank you!”
“I’m glad I could help,” Serafina said, and watched as the girl opened the door and hurried to the gate.
It was less than a week later that Dielle was back, her footsteps lighter and her news good. The doctor had come to see her mother and given her a bottle of medicine that already seemed to be working. Dielle cou
ldn’t thank Serafina enough and brought her another bouquet of flowers.
Only two days after that, a fancy carriage that was ill-suited to traveling the narrow, uneven path rolled to a stop in front of Serafina’s cottage. Serafina was outside when the carriage arrived. She watched as a footman jumped down and opened the door for a plump man wearing gold-colored leggings and a cape trimmed with fur. The man spoke to his coachman for a moment before turning to the cottage. He was halfway to the door when he noticed Serafina. Tilting his head back, he looked down his nose at her, taking in her poorly fitting gown.
“You may tell Baba Yaga that Doctor Tesar is here,” he said, then turned away to examine the cottage.
Serafina’s lips twisted in a wry smile as she strolled inside. She took her time brushing her hair and straightening her clothes before going to the door. “You may come in,” she told the doctor, then turned her back on him and took her seat at the table, leaving him to shut the door. Not liking his manner, she saw no reason to be polite.
The doctor strode into the cottage and looked around, obviously expecting someone else to be there. He seemed surprised when he found that Serafina was alone.
“I’m Baba Yaga,” she said. “What is your question?”
Ever since Dielle came to tell her about her mother’s improving health, Serafina had been looking forward to the doctor’s visit. She had convinced herself that a dedicated doctor would ask her something important, like how to cure a wasting sickness or repair a damaged heart, so she wasn’t prepared when the doctor said, “My father hid all his gold shortly before he died. Where did he put it?”
It was the kind of question that she had been asked many times and had answered without thinking, only now as she answered she couldn’t help but feel disappointed.
“He didn’t hide it,” she replied in her Baba Yaga voice. “He invested it in the cargo on a sailing ship. He died before the ship returned. Go see Captain Dolinski docked at Drapno Bay and take proof that you are your father’s son. The captain has your father’s money and will give it to you once he knows that you are the right man.”
It was only after the doctor had gone, riding away in his rattling, jostling carriage, that she realized he hadn’t brought a gift. He probably thought that helping Dielle’s mother was enough, she thought, and decided that it was.
That very night another man came to see her, bringing a bottle of wine as his gift. A partially shuttered lantern swung wildly in his hand, the light jerking across the trees, the ground, and the sky as he stumbled and cursed.
Serafina had just gone to bed when she saw the erratic light through her window, but she didn’t get up until she heard the person at the gate, trying to force it open. She was putting on her everyday gown again when she heard Boris yell, “Go away! Come back to see her when you’re sober!”
“I brought her stupid gift and my question. I have as much right as anyone to hear her answer! Get the ugly old bat out here so I can ask my question, or I’ll smash you to bits!” the man shouted.
Angry, Serafina threw the door open and stepped outside. “What is it that you have to ask in the middle of the night?”
The man raised his lantern until its light fell on her face, making her blink and look away. He didn’t seem to notice that she was neither old nor ugly. “Invite me in first,” he said, waving the half-empty bottle of wine in the air.
“I will not,” she told him. “Ask your question so you can be on your way.”
Taking a long swig from the bottle, the man staggered against the gate, making it creak alarmingly. “What I want to know is this,” he said, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “My wife just gave birth to a boy with red hair. No one in my family has red hair. Is the boy mine?”
The last thing Serafina wanted to do was talk to this man, but there was no stopping the Baba Yaga voice. “No,” she said, regretting the words she could not stop. “He is the son of the miller, who would be a better father than you ever will.”
The man’s voice drowned out her last words as he cursed at the top of his lungs. Flinging the nearly empty bottle at the door, he shouted, “Here’s your blasted gift! You and your questions! I wish I’d never asked you! You shouldn’t be allowed to answer questions like that! Maybe I should come in there and make sure you can never talk again! Open this blasted gate, and I’ll—”
Serafina stepped back into her house and slammed the door. She felt something bump into her legs and glanced down to see Maks, his eyes glittering in the moonlight that came through the window. “Tell the cottage to go,” said the cat.
“What are you talking about?” she asked over the roar of the man’s voice.
“Tell the cottage to go now!” Maks shouted as the skulls screamed at the man.
“But Boris—”
“Will be fine if you do this!” said the cat. “Just say, ‘Chicken hut, chicken hut, take me away,’ and it will.”
“All right! I …” Serafina took a deep breath, then said in a rush of words, “Chicken hut, chicken hut, take me away!”
The cottage vibrated like a dog shaking itself after a bath. Beams creaked and floorboards groaned as the structure lurched to one side, then the other. Serafina grabbed hold of the back of a chair and held on. The cottage rose abruptly, and the man’s shouted curses became screams of terror. With a loud thwack the door flew open, allowing the stream of bones and skulls to rush through the doorway and down into their trunk. When the last bone had clattered in and the trunk lid had closed itself, the door slammed shut and the cottage began its swaying walk. Although the furniture didn’t move, small objects did. The book was the only thing on the table that didn’t budge. Everything else slid off the side and fell to the floor. A cup shattered, Serafina’s hairbrush skated under the bed, and her shawl slithered across the wood planks until it snagged on the leg of a chair.
“The cottage shares a bond with each Baba Yaga and will listen to what you say. Next time, tell it to be careful when it gets up,” said Maks. “It will if you tell it to, and we won’t get rattled around like beetles in a nutshell.”
“I’ll remember that,” Serafina said as she began to clean up the shattered cup. She was shaken, not only by the movement of the cottage but by the things the man had said to her. If only she could avoid answering certain kinds of questions!
Serafina worried deep into the night about what was going to happen to the man’s wife and her baby and didn’t go to sleep until it was nearly morning.
Chapter 8
When the cottage finally settled down, it was on the outskirts of a prosperous town. From the very first day, a steady stream of visitors came to ask their questions. There were so many that after a while they all began to run together in Serafina’s mind. One morning, she was cleaning up after her breakfast when she noticed that Maks was licking his paw and scrubbing his face with it. She laughed suddenly, startling the cat.
“What’s wrong with you?” asked Maks.
“Nothing,” Serafina said. “I just remembered that a neighbor of mine always told us to expect guests when a cat washes his face. With all the guests we’ve had, you must have been washing your face a lot!”
Maks twitched his tail. “I don’t think my bathing habits have anything to do with it!”
They both turned their heads at a knock on the door. Serafina gave the cat a questioning look. “You don’t suppose …,” she began.
“It’s just a coincidence!” said the cat as he jumped onto a trunk to look out the window. “Your friend has come to see you again,” he announced.
“What friend?” Serafina said, even as she went to the door. When she opened it, Dielle was there, holding a single white daisy. “It’s you!” Serafina said in surprise. “I didn’t expect to see you again.”
“I came to town to get more medicine for Mother,” Dielle said, handing the daisy to Serafina. “When I heard that you were here, I thought I’d stop by.”
“I’m glad you did! Usually my only visitors are
people coming to ask a question.”
Dielle went straight to the table and sat down. “Then it’s about time you had a friend come calling.”
“Are we friends, then?” Serafina asked, sounding wistful.
“Of course!” said Dielle. “You helped Mother and me more than anyone else ever did, and you can’t tell me you did it for the flowers. We both count you as a friend now. I just hope that someday you’ll get to meet Mother, too.”
“I’d like that very much,” Serafina said. “Which would you prefer, tea or cider?”
“Cider, if you don’t mind.”
“How is your mother?” Serafina asked as she took two cups from the cupboard.
“The same,” said Dielle. “Which is better than she was before she got the medicine. Tell me something. Why do you look so much older than when I saw you last? It’s been only a few weeks.”
Serafina shrugged. “It’s part of being Baba Yaga. I answer a question, my body gets older.” Setting the two filled cups on the table, she sat down across from Dielle.
“Really?” said Dielle. “I never would have guessed! How did you end up being Baba Yaga? It’s not a family thing, is it?”
“My great-aunt was the last Baba Yaga, but I think she gave me the job because she heard somehow that I could read and write, and thought I would be a good fit.”
“You can read and write! I wish I could. Can you do anything else magic, besides answer questions? I mean, things that only a Baba Yaga can do.”
“That’s pretty much it. Except, well, I can tell the cottage to move.”
“That’s amazing! I bet you meet a lot of interesting people.”
“Every day,” said Serafina. “But you’re the only friend who comes to see me. Aside from the people coming to ask me questions, the cat and the skulls are generally the only ones I have to talk to. Oh, and then there are the fairies … I never knew they were real until I became Baba Yaga. I think I can see them because I’m Baba Yaga. Why, the first time I saw them—”
