CHAPTER ELEVEN, PART TWO
a very unlikely favor
The inside of the tower was very, very dark. Milly and Jasper snuck up its winding staircase with tentative steps. Along the walls were paintings and statues and busts of famous wizards and sorcerers and enchantresses and conjurers. Hightop had amassed quite the collection over the years. He’d even commissioned works of art in his own likeness. Milly paused by a rendition of Hightop riding a tornado. It glistened with various knife and brush strokes of oil layered on top of each other.
Milly rolled her eyes. The sooner they could be done with this, the better.
Our two friends passed by several rooms as they climbed. One was full of strange-looking spheres, all orbiting around a giant glowing orb in the middle. Another was a library with no floor, and bookshelves that stretched all the way around the wall. There was even an entire garden in one of the rooms, which Milly found fascinating until a small plant opened its petals to reveal tiny teeth and ate its much larger neighbor.
By this point, Milly’s legs were starting to feel very stiff. With the exception of last night, Milly had been on her feet nonstop. She felt like a lumbering turtle. Made of lead. That had just finished an entire plate of eggplant lasagna the night before. Nevertheless, her frustration gave her energy to keep on keeping on, and that was all the motivation she really needed.*
After a considerable amount of time, the two finally made it to the top. They kept going until they found a door at the end of the stairwell, slightly cracked open. They heard someone curse from inside.
Milly and Jasper exchanged a look, then peeked through.
The tower’s ceiling was split open, and a gnome sat on a broombranch above Hightop’s head. Ned the gnob paced back and forth beneath him while Hightop sat in a chair occasionally tapping his foot against the floor.
“—I’m telling you! I saw a real live witch! She blasted me in the face, she did, and ruined my business.”
“Your illegal business, you mean,” the gnome said. “It’s no secret that you’ve been engaged in black-market magicks for years. How do we know you’re not just blaming your bad fortune on an innocent child?”
Ned jumped on a table and stomped his foot against it. “I may be dishonest, but I never lie! I knows what I saw. She was a witch. Her fingers were on fire and all.”
The gnome sighed. “I suppose I can file it with the other reports, but you know nothing will come of it.”
Hightop stood from his chair and drew his wand. “Hold on, friend. Let’s give the man a moment. Tell me more about what you saw. What did this witch look like?”
“She was small. Wiry,” Ned said. “Brown-skinned, with a ferocious look in her eye. Almost like a wild animal.”
“And where did you say the fire came from? Her hand?”
“Yes, yes! There was a moon on her palm. Glowing red.”
“And did you smell anything off? Any hint of something burnt?”
“Hightop—” the gnome said.
“Shh. Let me work.”
“Now that you mention it, there was something funny. Like wet toast.”
Hightop laughed. “It’s all right, Mr. Gnob. We’ll get all of this sorted out for you right quick.”
“Hightop?” The gnome’s voice squeaked. “Hightop, what are you—”
Hightop’s wand came cracking down, and the gnob froze still. Milly gasped, covering her mouth with both hands.
“Hightop,” the gnome said. “You know that the High Council highly disapproves of this methodology.”
“The High Council doesn’t need to know, Finnegan. And you aren’t gonna tell them.”
“Okay, but if they knew—”
“Stop worrying.” Hightop pulled the wand back from the gnob’s lips, and a long string of some strange purple substance came with it. “He’ll be perfectly fine. He’ll just be a little scatterbrained for a while. Here, hand me that bottle, will you?”
The gnome looked flustered, but he flew to the other end of the room and came back with a tiny glass. “I don’t like this one bit.”
Hightop shrugged. “Sometimes good guys have to get their hands dirty.” He put the gnob’s memory into the bottle and corked it, then quickly hid the wand in his sleeve. “There we go. All done.”
Ned blinked and looked around the room. “What happened? Why am I here?”
Hightop smiled. “It’s all right, sir. We’ll have that problem sorted for you right quick! Now, if you would, the door’s over there. I’ll send the bill your way soon.”
“I . . . um. Thank you?”
“Not at all.” Hightop ushered him toward the door. Milly and Jasper pulled back and pressed themselves against the wall. “Have a good day, sir!”
Ned passed by Milly and Jasper, eyes glazed over. “Must be going mad,” he muttered to himself. “Why the boggins would I come to Hightop, of all people? Oof, maybe it’s this stomach. I feel queasy. I hope he didn’t charge me too much for whatever this is.”
When the gnob had turned the corner, Milly and Jasper exchanged a worried look, then edged forward to continue eavesdropping.
“—I’m sorry, Hightop, but the council simply cannot endorse this venture of yours. We cannot allocate any more funds to this witch relocation project. You know that.”
“But what about West Ernost? What about the witch in the woods? These gripes and gobblers have been infesting all of Arrett. You heard Ned. They’re still out there! We need to make sure they’re all accounted for.”
The gnome narrowed his eyes. “They are accounted for. You said the puzzle-maker had been taken care of—”
“And the shadows came to her house anyway, yes, I know. But I don’t think they found her. I think they were following someone else.”
“What could possibly make you think that?”
“The puzzle-maker hasn’t been trouble for years. I doubt she even remembers she used to be a witch.”
“Hightop.” The gnome’s voice dropped to a whisper. “Don’t be so careless with the words you choose.”
“What, ‘witch’? Witch witch witch witch. You all need to stop being so scared. The shadows will be easily taken care of. It’s these witches you need to be worried about.”
“These . . . witches haven’t been the problem lately. In fact, I’ve heard rumors in the council that we might need to reinstate them.”
“What?! Why?”
“I think you know why.”
“It’s because you’re scared, isn’t it? You’re scared of a handful of shadows.”
“It’s because the High Council is starting to doubt you’ve made any progress in this expedition of yours. Because maybe certain people realize it was a mistake to ban the witches to begin with! You ever think about that?” For the first time in the conversation, Finnegan grew stern. “How do we know the shadows and witches have any connection at all?”
“I told you that I was closing in on the case, didn’t I? You’ve just got to give me more time.”
“You’ve had time!” The gnome sighed and lowered his voice. “Look, Charles, we appreciate what you did for us during the war. We really do. But it’s high time you realized that we don’t need heroes anymore. We need consistency. And you, old friend, are bad at consistency. We can’t continue to support this little crusade of yours.”
“You mean you can’t.”
The gnome shrugged. “I’m just a messenger.”
“So what does that mean? I’m irrelevant?”
“Exactly that.” The gnome shook his head. “I know it’s hard to hear, but maybe you should take some time off. Relax. Find a new hobby that isn’t just chasing down winds and sniffing out witches. They’ve learned their lesson. I know you’ve got personal business in this—”
Hightop pointed one of his fingers in the gnome’s face. “Don’t.”
The gnome backed away. “I know you care, but why don’t you leave them be and let us deal with the shadows?”
Hightop groaned dramatically. “If you just give me a little more time, I can—”
“No!” A loud chorus of voices boomed out from the cloud above them like a thunderclap.
Hightop’s shoulders slumped. It seemed all the fight had left him.
“You heard them.” The gnome turned his broombranch around. “Goodbye, Hightop. Take care of yourself. If anything changes, I’ll be in touch.”
The gnome shot up through the ceiling and toward the singular cloud that had been sitting above Hightop’s tower. Milly squinted and held her breath. It wasn’t a cloud. It was a giant, floating castle.
There was a sign on its archway that read The High Council of Pointy Hats and Flying Broomsticks: Ask and We Shall Provide. Those golden words had been plastered over something much older, words engraved into the stonework that said Be kind and do no harm. As soon as the gnome disappeared behind the gates, the cloud made a loud rumbling sound and trundled away.
“That’s fine! I was done talking anyway! Don’t come crawling back to me when the shadows eat holes in your bedsheets!” Hightop shook his fist, then halfheartedly swung his hand in the air. “Whatever.” He collapsed onto his back in the middle of the table and picked up a handheld mirror to commiserate with himself. “We had a good run. Still got our looks, so that’s something. And free drinks at the Quacking Dragon for life. And . . . well, I guess that’s it. BAH.” He cast the mirror aside and let it crack against the floor. A second later, the mirror pulled all its glass shards back together and was good as new. “I just need a way into the forest,” he muttered. “That witch’s magicks are too strong, but maybe if I . . .” He stopped midsentence, jolted up, and froze with his mouth pried open in a crooked posture.
“ACHOO!!!”
His sneeze echoed through the entire room. Hightop searched for a tissue and blew his very red nose. “Why are my allergies acting up? There’s no—achoo!” He locked eyes with Jasper, then Milly, and fell backward off the table.
Milly winced at the sound. She pushed open the door and ran over. “You okay?”
Hightop waved his hand several times. “I’m fine. Perfectly, perfectly fine.” He propped himself up and squinted at Milly’s face. “Do I know you? Did you try to sell me mint pastries last week?”
Milly shook her head. She opened her mouth to explain, but he interrupted.
“Oh, were you the intern whose application I rejected? Gracious, aren’t you the determined one.”
“No, I—”
“Of course! An autograph. That’s what you want.” He unwrinkled the paper he’d blown his nose in and tried to scribble his name across the bottom. “Here you go.”
“Gross,” Jasper said, finally having made his way across the room.
Milly jerked away from it. She fiddled with the token in her pocket. “I’m not here for your snotty autograph! I’m here because I need to save my sister!”
“Your sister?” Hightop looked her up and down, and the light of recognition finally filled his eyes. “Oh. You’re from that ragged little orphanage. I’m sorry. All you kids look the same. Amazing! What are you doing all the way out here? And how’d you get through the woods? You’re not a . . .” He narrowed his eyes and took a long, hard sniff. Suddenly, his gray eyes darkened and he grabbed Milly’s wrist. “Aha!”
Her blank palm stared up at them.
“Let go of her!” Jasper hissed.
“Damn it all!” Hightop didn’t acknowledge the cat, but he did let go. “You’re not a witch.”
Milly pulled her hand back and continued clutching the wooden token Emm made in her pocket. Her wrist throbbed. Was Hightop not able to see the mark? Did he not smell the magicks off her?
She swallowed, but her throat was day.
It didn’t seem to matter. The wizard had already gotten distracted and was rummaging around the room for something.
“You were hunting the witch,” she said. “I need your help to find her.”
The wizard chuckled. “Hunting is such a primal term. I prefer procuring. Much more sophisticated. Why do you need my help? It seems like you’ve done a pretty good job getting all the way out here yourself.”
“I lost the trail,” she replied. “Out by the river.”
“Oh?” The wizard’s eyes gleamed for a second. “Oh! The river. Yes, you mean the forest river? You know, little girl, on second thought I think we might just be able to help each other. I also lost her, you see, but I know exactly where she is.”
“So the reason you haven’t gotten her yet is . . . ?”
“Let’s just say that I, for reasons I don’t feel like getting into, am currently incapable of retrieving her. But!” The wizard jumped up and patted Milly’s head. “As someone completely lacking in magicks of any kind, you are a prime candidate!”
He ran over to another side of the room and started fidgeting with some of his instruments.
“Wait,” Milly said. “What does that mean?”
“I—achoo!—please keep that cat away from me.” The wizard swung a broken umbrella at Jasper.
Jasper hissed before retreating to the door. “Obviously, I’m not needed or welcome here,” he said. “I’ll wait for you outside. Scream if you need me.”
Milly opened her mouth, but the cat had already departed. She sighed and followed the wizard around the room as he constructed a haphazard contraption of metal objects collected from random nooks and crannies. He talked all the while. “Your sister’s in the Needsy Woods.”
Milly felt her throat tighten. Cilla had been there all along?
“I can’t explain how I know, but she got away from that old ragged lady and fell in. I’d go in there and get her myself, obviously, except I can’t. There’s a witch in those woods, more malicious and powerful than any I’ve ever heard of, who has used powerful magicks to keep me out—I’ve been trying to get her to move for years, heard she’s protecting the last broombranches or something. I don’t know how, but that’s that. You, however! You managed to walk through the woods without so much as a scratch. At least—” He paused. “I assume you walked.”
Milly wondered if she should elaborate, but she only nodded.
“Excellent. That means whatever magicks that witch is using to keep me out don’t work on you. Though I can’t explain why—”
“Sounds like there’s a lot you can’t explain.”
“I’m ignoring that. See this?” He pointed at his own face. “IGNORING IT. What matters is you can get in and destroy her magicks with this.” Hightop held up the contraption he’d been making. It was a multi-edged blade, sticking out in several twisted directions from where the handle was. “So how about it?”
“How about what?”
“Will you do me a favor?”*
She didn’t answer, not sure why this powerful wizard was asking her for anything.
“You want your sister back, don’t you?”
She nodded. Reluctantly.
“And I’m the one you came to for help, aren’t I?”
She hesitated, then nodded again. “What do you want me to do?”
“Excellent!” He wrapped the blade in a cloth and handed it to Milly. “Now, you be extremely careful with that. It’s not something you should just be swinging about willy-nilly. It’s dangerous. You’ll have to find the heart of the woods—it’s inside a giant tree, you can’t miss it—and you’ll plunge that deep in there. Make sure to twist it a couple times for good measure. Hopefully that’ll be enough to break the magicks and let me come in. Then we can take care of your sister and whatnot.”
“Will my sister be okay?” Milly held the object tightly, but warily.
“I’m sure she’ll be more than fine. Hopefully. Who knows what that witch would do if she’s fou
nd her? That’s another thing!” The wizard stopped everything and held Milly’s shoulders. “You must make sure to never, ever talk to the Witch of the Wasted Woods. She is powerful and dangerous and will do whatever she can to make you think she’s your friend. But she’s not. She’s a witch. She’s a liar and a fraud and must be dealt with.”
Milly’s brow started to sweat. “A-are all witches bad?”
Hightop stared deep into her eyes. “Your sister isn’t a witch, is she?”
“Of course not!” She felt her cheeks burn.
“It’s okay if she is.” Hightop smiled. “If she hasn’t awakened her power, there’s hope for her yet. I’ll bring her to the High Council, and we’ll make sure to take very good care of her. Okay? All witches can be unmade if we start early enough. Besides,” he mumbled, mostly to himself, “most wizards were witches once . . .”
Milly nodded timidly. She knew what she should have said, but she was too scared.
“Anyway! I believe in you, little one. All of Arrett does!” He lowered his voice. “Don’t let us down.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
the house of a witch terrible and beautiful
Under Hightop’s instruction, Milly, Jasper, and Horace scurried around the perimeter of Nignip in order to avoid being seen by anyone from the High Council or a particular gnob. Milly definitely didn’t want to see Ned, whose befuddled brain she felt a little responsible for.
“It’s not that you’ll get in trouble,” Hightop had explained when telling her the plan. “It’s just that I’d rather anyone not ask questions.”
“I won’t tell anyone.”
“Good. Not even that half-giant napping outside my window.”
“Why not?”
“Secrets must always be kept. You can trust me. I’m an adult.”
Considering that she didn’t really feel like answering questions either, Milly was more than happy to comply, even if she didn’t feel good about it. Something about the way Hightop said “secrets” made the word feel dirty. But she needed to get Cilla back, and she’d do anything to make that happen. Even if it meant keeping one sad adult’s stupid secrets.
The Hungry Ghosts Page 10
