by E. D. Baker
The next night, Serafina was getting ready for bed when she heard Boris shout, “You have company!”
“Who could it be at this hour?” Serafina murmured as she refastened her gown. She had been busy all day, receiving one visitor after the other; all she wanted to do was go to sleep. Pulling her shawl around her shoulders, she opened the door and peered outside. Three figures were standing by the gate, and she could hear others on horseback in the gloom under the trees.
“Which one of you has a question for me?” she called, trying to see their faces in the dark. Her eyes weren’t very sharp anymore, and she couldn’t tell if they were men or women, young or old.
“I do,” one of the figures said in a young man’s voice, stepping forward.
“Then you may enter, but the others must stay beyond the gate,” she told him, and turned back to take her seat at the table.
She was sitting down when her visitor stepped into the candlelight and she could finally see his face. He was a sturdy young man with a thick-set body, dark hair, and darker eyes; she could see right away that he bore a strong resemblance to King Borysko. “I’m Prince Cynrik of Vargas,” he told her. “You’ve spoken with my father.”
“I remember. It was one of my more memorable visits,” said Serafina. “Please sit down. You’ll give me a crick in my neck if I have to look up at you like this.”
“My father told me about you,” Prince Cynrik said, taking a seat, “but you’re a lot older than the woman he described.”
Serafina gave him a wry smile. “My age is known to vary from day to day.”
“Uh-huh,” he said, sounding skeptical. “I don’t know how that’s possible, but I have heard that your predictions are very accurate.”
“I don’t make predictions. I simply answer questions with the truth. One question for each person over an entire lifetime, so be careful what you ask.”
“I know exactly what I want to ask. My question is—what can I do to end the war?”
Serafina turned her head away. When she’d first seen his face, she’d had a good idea what he was going to ask, but she hated giving answers that might lead to someone’s death. All she could do was hope that she was about to tell him something that would bring a quick end to the war. And then her mouth opened without her control, and she said in Baba Yaga’s voice, “First you must rid yourself of the traitors in your midst. Lord Dymtrus, Lord Jerrel, and Lord Vanko have all been lining their pockets with gold from Lord Zivon, a supporter of your father’s enemy, King Kolenka. In exchange for the gold, the three lords have been informing Zivon of your father’s plans. Rid your father’s court of these men and replace them with three of his staunchest supporters, Lord Dima, Lord Lyaksandro, and Lord Rufin. Three days before the new moon, send a small fleet to the Daleko Strait. Let King Kolenka’s men pursue them to the Isle of Ptaks. Keep the rest of your fleet hidden behind the isle and prepared to fall on Kolenka’s navy once it has rounded the promontory …”
Serafina continued to tell the prince exactly what to do, outlining where he should send his forces and what places to avoid. “And whatever you do,” she said finally, “don’t join in the battles yourself. You are a strong and valiant warrior, but you will be killed if you fight. Peace will follow if you live; chaos will reign if you do not.”
“I understand,” said Prince Cynrik as he rose to his feet. “But how do I know that this isn’t a trick? If I do what you say and you’re actually helping Zivon or Kolenka, I’ll be handing the victory over to them.”
“Hey, you came to me!” Serafina said in her own voice. “I answered your question with the truth. It’s up to you to decide what to do with it.”
The prince searched her eyes with his as if to hunt out any hint of deception. Finally, he seemed to come to a decision; he nodded and reached for a small leather bag hanging from his belt. “Here is your gift,” he said, laying it on the table. “My father trusted your word and so shall I. I’m sorry if I was rude, but it is hard to trust anyone in times like this.”
“I know,” Serafina said, thinking of the man who had offered a reward for her.
“I’ll have to trust you with one other thing—that you won’t tell anyone what you told me,” he said, a question in his eyes.
Serafina straightened her bent back as much as she could, a difficult task as she’d aged even more in the last few minutes. “I would never repeat what I told you to anyone of my own free will. However, a Baba Yaga has no control over what she says when asked a first question.”
“I cannot ask for anything more,” said the prince. “I see what you mean about aging. You look older now than when I came in.”
“I know,” she said, examining one of her age-spotted hands.
“You said ‘a Baba Yaga.’ Does that mean there’s more than one?”
Serafina shook her head. “There’s only one at a time.” Blowing out the candle on the table, she started toward the door, hoping the prince would take the hint. She was so tired that her bones ached, and she wanted to go to bed.
After thanking her again, Prince Cynrik finally left. The door was hardly shut behind him when Serafina retrieved the mirror from the cupboard. Standing in front of the candle she’d left burning on the mantel, she peered at her reflection. She looked almost as ancient as her old neighbor, Widow Zloto. Soft wrinkles creased her face, and tiny lines radiated from the outside corners of her eyes. Her hair was nearly all white, and the backs of her hands were dotted with age spots. A silent sob caught in her throat when she thought of what Alek might say if he saw her now. He would be kind and gentle and say all the right things, but even he would know that they could never be together or have a family. He would pity her, too, and that was something she would not be able to stand.
Setting the mirror on the table, she blew out the candle and shuffled to her bed, her footsteps slow and hesitant. Maks was curled up near her pillow, but he moved over when she lay down and pulled up the covers. When her body shook with silent tears, he shifted closer to snuggle against her back. Neither of them said a word, but she was grateful for the comfort and warmth of his body.
Serafina would have told the cottage to leave that night, but first she wanted to talk to the old man who had promised to find the answer to her question about the blue rose tea. Afraid of how much she would age if she answered any more questions, she told Boris not to let anyone in but the old man with the bald head who had come before. The skull took his job seriously, shouting at everyone else to go away. Each time she heard Boris’s voice, Serafina peeked through the window to see who was there. Then one day another man arrived; it was someone she felt she couldn’t turn away.
Once again the sheriff’s armed guard was escorting a shackled man. Serafina watched through the window as they tethered their horses. The prisoner came to the gate seeming more interested than apprehensive, which made Serafina think he might be as innocent as the last man the sheriff had brought.
When Serafina stepped outside, Boris was already shouting, “Go away! Baba Yaga doesn’t want to see anyone now.”
“Wait, Boris! I’ll make an exception for Sheriff Toman Damek,” she said, watching the prisoner’s face. He had appeared startled when he heard the skull and saw the jaws moving, but his look of astonishment quickly turned into a smirk. Serafina didn’t like his expression, nor did she like it when he turned his head to spit at her gate. This was one man she would never have let in her cottage.
“Your prisoner can ask his question out here,” she told the sheriff, who nodded and gestured for his men to bring the prisoner inside the fence.
“Do you know you may ask only one question of me your entire life?” she said once the prisoner stood before her.
The man’s smirk grew broader. “I don’t know why I’d ever want to ask you anything, old woman. Baba Yaga is just a myth. There is no such person any more than there are fairies or trolls. You’re profiting from people’s ignorance by pretending to answer their questions.”
“Be polite!” ordered the sheriff.
Serafina shrugged. “Think what you will, I’ll answer your question regardless. What is it you wanted to ask me?”
“I’m not asking—”
“Ask her the question,” one of the guards said, prodding him from behind. “You know that’s why we came here.”
The prisoner shrugged and said in an insolent voice, “I won’t believe a word she says. I know it’s going to be all lies, and anyone who does believe her is an idiot and a fool. If I’d stolen those sheep, where are they now? You’ve been to my farm, sheriff. You’ve seen that I have no sheep to my name. And what about the money? You tore my house apart, claiming I might have sold them, even though I swore that I have no more money than I’ve ever had. But I’ll ask her your question because you say that I’ll hang for sure if I don’t.”
“Ask her!” said Sheriff Damek.
“I know, I know!” the man spit at the sheriff. Turning back to Serafina, he growled, “Did I steal the sheep from the common land in Vioska?”
Serafina looked him in the eyes when she answered in her Baba Yaga voice. “You stole the sheep from the common land three weeks ago. Two weeks before that you stole the sheep from the farms belonging to Matviyko Klimus and his neighbor Svec Ruza. Both times you sold the sheep to Mlynar Leva, a dealer in Istina, then gave the money to Lord Zivon, the man you’ve been working for all along. He has been giving the money to King Kolenka, which means you are a traitor to your king as well as a thief and a liar.”
The prisoner’s eyes had grown round and large while Serafina spoke. He began spluttering before she was finished. “No! That’s not true! I told you she would lie! I’d never—”
“Take him back to his horse and tie him on so he can’t move,” the sheriff told his men. “You heard the answer. This is a matter for the king now. I’ll send two men back with word for the new sheriff, and the rest of you will be going with me to take him before the king himself.”
The prisoner was blubbering when the men dragged him through the gate. He looked so terrified that Serafina almost felt sorry for him.
“Once again I owe you my thanks,” the sheriff told her. “I would not have brought him to you if he had simply been a thief, but I was sure there was more to it and I was right.”
“I’m glad I was able to help,” said Serafina. “So tell me, should I expect this to become a regular event—you bringing prisoners to me so I can prove their guilt or innocence?”
Sheriff Damek shook his head. “That won’t be likely. After today, I’m no longer sheriff of Vioska. I’ve received word that I’m needed at the king’s side. When I leave here, I’m going straight to the castle. I wanted to take care of this one last matter before I let my successor take over, because I suspected the very thing you told the prisoner. Now I have names I can pass on to King Borysko and a better chance that we can catch the culprits.”
“Then I wish you well,” Serafina said as he handed her a small bag of coins.
“Wow!” said Boris, watching the sheriff and his men ride away. “I really enjoyed that.”
“I knew that man was guilty as soon as I aimed my eye sockets at him,” Krany announced. “Anyone with eyes that green can’t be telling the truth.”
“The prisoner didn’t have green eyes,” said Serafina. “That was the sheriff.”
“I always said that Krany doesn’t know what he’s talking about!” Yure chortled.
The old man arrived two days later. Before she’d even peeked outside, Serafina knew from the welcoming tone of Boris’s voice that the old man was there. She was always cold now, so she pulled her shawl tighter around her thin shoulders and opened the door, beckoning her visitor in with a wave of her hand.
The old man looked at her oddly when he stepped inside, but he seemed happy enough to take a seat at her table. “I looked into that question you wanted answered,” he said. “The reason no one has brought you blue rose tea is because no one knows where to find it. A lot of people seem to think that you give better answers if the gift is something you want, so believe me when I say that when you ask for something, people try to bring it to you. They’ve been looking for it everywhere without any luck.”
Serafina thought about telling the old man that she had no control over the answers she gave and that the gift was more a courtesy than a payment, but she didn’t think she wanted everyone to know that. She depended on the gifts, and the more she thought about it, the more she thought they really were payments of a sort. If Baba Yaga didn’t receive something when she answered questions, she might avoid people so she wouldn’t age, an idea that Serafina found very appealing.
She realized now how much her hopes had been tied to the old man’s answer. She’d thought someone might have seen blue roses in a faraway market, or someone might have known someone else whose cousin had them growing in her garden. Hearing him say that no one knew anything about them made her hope melt like a patch of ice on a warm day. Without the tea, her ever-aging body would probably die of old age before the fairy Summer Rose returned.
“Thank you for asking around,” she said, her heart so heavy that she found it difficult to breathe.
The old man shrugged. “I’m sorry I couldn’t be more helpful.”
Serafina glanced toward the window, wondering how soon she could tell the house to leave, then turned back to the old man when he suddenly leaned toward her, squinting.
“What’s wrong?” she asked, his close scrutiny making her uncomfortable.
“My eyes must be failing me,” he replied. “You look a lot older than I thought you did the other day. I could have sworn that you were my age, but now … How old are you, if you don’t mind my asking?”
Serafina struggled to her feet, her mind made up. “I’m a lot younger than I look.”
“Well, you look a lot older than me. About that proposal …”
“Don’t worry,” she told him, taking him by the elbow so she could hustle him to the door. “I don’t plan to marry you. If I were you, I’d hurry home. It’s time I was on my way, and you don’t want to be in my yard when I leave.”
Although Serafina usually preferred to wait until dark to tell the cottage to move, this time she couldn’t bring herself to wait that long. The most she could do was watch through the window until the old man was out of sight before calling in Maks and taking a few items from the cupboard. She was sitting at the table when she told the cottage, “Chicken hut, chicken hut, take me to Mala Kapusta and walk gently. My body is getting too frail for this kind of thing.”
Maks braced himself as the cottage stood. When the floor was fairly level again, he strolled to Serafina’s side and rubbed against her leg, purring. She didn’t respond, so he jumped onto her lap and nudged her arm with his head. “What are you doing?” he asked.
“Something I should have done long before this.” Scowling at a teardrop on the parchment, she thought about what she wanted to say. It took her nearly an hour to write the letter, and the cat stayed in her lap purring the entire time. When Serafina finally finished the note, she sat back to read it while the ink dried.
Dear Alek,
You mean so much to me, but I can’t share your hope and expectations. We aren’t meant to be together. I have run out of the blue rose tea that keeps me young and can’t find any more. My body has aged so much that I can’t have long to live. I love you and always will, but do not look for me. Go live your life without me. I’m sure you will meet someone else to love someday.
Love,
Fina
There were so many other things that Serafina had wanted to say, yet she couldn’t bring herself to say them. She wanted to tell Alek that she was devastated, that she would love him forever, that she really didn’t want him to find someone else to love but because she loved him she wanted him to be happy, even if it meant he would love someone else. Her tears were flowing freely when she finished the letter, but she was careful to keep them from falling on the parchment.
/> It was midafternoon when the cottage reached Mala Kapusta, but Serafina didn’t care who saw her. Before the cottage had finished settling to the ground, she told the skulls and bones not to bother making the fence because they wouldn’t be there long, but they didn’t listen and flew out the door, forming the fence even as she hurried across the road. Two letters and a fresh bouquet were waiting for her in the hole in the tree. One letter was from Alek, the other from her father. After shoving her own letter into the hole, she made her way back across the road and climbed onto her bed to let herself have a good cry. “Chicken hut, chicken hut, take me somewhere far from any towns or villages,” she told the cottage. She didn’t bother to tell it to be gentle.
A few hours later, with her tears dried and her curiosity growing stronger, she finally opened the letter from her father.
My darling daughter,
I’m writing to you because Alek says he has a way to get letters to you. He has also told us what happened to you. Your mother thinks her grandmother really did have a sister named Sylanna, but we are still angry that we were deceived like that. To think that a member of our own family would trick us about an inheritance! As for Viktor, everyone was furious when we learned that he let you go into the cottage alone. Your mother hasn’t spoken to him since.
We worry about you, but Alek assures us that you are well. The widow Zloto comes by every day to ask if we’ve had any word of you. Your mother thinks we should invite her to move in, she is here so often. I don’t know if I could survive that much chatter!
Ah—our big news! Three days after you left for Mala Kapusta, your sister Alina gave birth to a healthy baby boy. We were thrilled, although our joy would have been greater if you had been here with us to welcome him to our family. Your mother and I think he looks like Alina did as a baby, but Widow Zloto insists he looks like her brother-in-law did when he turned ninety-five.
