“WOLVES? THURSDAYS?” said Queen Sychorax in arctic outrage. “Wizards and Warriors in love? Impossible!”
“Inconceivable,” echoed Encanzo bitterly, in a voice hard as a diamond. “A queen like Sychorax was always going to marry some idiot Warrior with a thick neck and a big sword, so she could enjoy all these knickknacks, these golden plates, this Warrior jewelry trash around her neck… A queen like Sychorax would never be in love…”
“I had duties!” retorted Queen Sychorax. “Responsibilities! And you married one of your own kind, just as I did, Encanzo, for your disobedient son here must have had a mother once!”
“But the giant Proponderus told us the whole story…” said Wish, now miserably muddled. They were talking as if it had actually happened, while at the same time denying it.
Grown-ups were so confusing.
Was it true or was it made up?
“The giant must have been listening to the fairies,” said Queen Sychorax firmly. “Fairies are terrible liars. This is real life, Wish, not a fairy story. Therefore, I repeat, for the final time, Wish will return home with me, to the safety of Warrior Castle, and as far as I am concerned, this JUST… NEVER… HAPPENED.”
At that moment, the Witchsmeller stepped forward.
It was difficult for the Witchsmeller to be quite as scary as he had been only a couple of weeks before when he’d left Queen Sychorax’s iron fort in the full screaming cry and splendor of the Magic-hunt.
He had his sniffing nose, of course, but even that wasn’t quite so alarming now that he and his Magic-hunters had no armor, weapons, shields, spears, sprite-catching equipment, anything. All of it had been used by Wish’s Magic to create the great grim iron prison that now enclosed the Kingwitch. They were standing there in that cold draughty castle, wearing mostly their underclothes. Some of them had even had to cover themselves with hastily arranged brambles (which make rather prickly pants).
A person always feels at a disadvantage when they are trying to address a queen while dressed in little more than their underwear, so the Witchsmeller spoke with less than his usual authority.
“Your Majesty!” he objected. “You can’t possibly take this child Wish back to Warrior territories! This child here is, as I suspected, an extremely dangerous Fule.” He lowered his tone in horror. “And the Fule is MAGIC. There’s no two ways about it… and when I say Magic, I mean… really, really Magic.”
It was not wise to disagree with Queen Sychorax once she had decided something had JUST… NEVER… HAPPENED.
So now she turned on the Witchsmeller and fixed him with a stare that a Frost Giant would have been proud of and her voice dropped to about fifty degrees or so below freezing. “I hope you are not suggesting, pest controller, that my daughter, MY daughter, who is the product of nineteen lines of Warrior good breeding and is a direct descendant of Brutal the Giant-Killer himself on both sides of her family tree, is some kind of common CHANGELING?”
“Well… er… I don’t know about that, but you have to admit something very odd has gone on…” spluttered the Witchsmeller, quailing under her stern gaze.
“Or perhaps,” continued Queen Sychorax, in a voice so grim it could have shriveled a snail at fifty paces, “you are putting forward the notion that I, Queen Sychorax, exchanged a true love’s kiss with a rascal of a Wizard and that that has in some way turned my impeccably pedigreed Warrior of a daughter treasonably and untidily magical?”
“But she was exploding all over the place! Into an enormous cloud of dust! Shooting spells out of her eye! Making all the iron fly about like this!” babbled the Witchsmeller, waving his arms around energetically to re-create the moment. “We ALL saw her do it, right in front of us!”
Queen Sychorax’s eyes narrowed to splinters. “So you all saw her do it, did you?”
She turned to the crowd and her voice was as brisk and as meaningful as a freshly sharpened knife. “Step forward, if you have seen my daughter explode like some sort of badly raised Wizardly firework! Put up your hand if you witnessed my daughter making spells with iron like some sort of ghastly Magic blacksmith!”
There was a dreadful silence.
Nobody put up their hand.
And then such was the force of Queen Sychorax’s personality that everyone took a step backward, Wizards and Warriors alike, muttering things like: “Oh no, we saw nothing… nothing at all… It’s difficult to see in this kind of light.”
Queen Sychorax raised one splendid eyebrow and turned to the Witchsmeller. “It appears,” she said, in a tone like a cat bite, “that you were the only one who witnessed this spectacle, pest controller… You and your Magic-hunters are dismissed, and don’t expect me to offer you any references to the emperor.”
The Witchsmeller trembled with indignation. “This is an outrage!” he said. “I shall report this whole story to the Warrior emperor myself, and he shall remove your crown and bring the might of the Anti-Magic Commission down upon you and upon that Fule!”
“You’re going to tell the emperor that you failed and that the Kingwitch was defeated by a couple of thirteen-year-olds?” said the queen, in a tone of gentle surprise. “But you’re supposed to be his crack Magic-hunting troops! The emperor doesn’t like losers, pest controller, and what I would do if I were you, is to take some of these Witch feathers lying about around here back with you to the capital, and make up some story about how it was YOU who destroyed the Kingwitch. And then maybe he will forgive you for losing all that expensive Magic-hunting equipment.”
“You are the most appalling woman I have ever met in my entire life!” said the Witchsmeller bitterly.
Queen Sychorax gave a small smile.
I think she took that as a compliment.
The Witchsmeller drew himself up to his full height, and adjusted his underclothes. He and his Magic-hunters gathered up as many Witch feathers as they could find. And then they stalked out of the courtyard with as much dignity as they could manage considering they were half dressed and unarmed.
I’m afraid that the watching Wizards and Warriors did not entirely hide their laughter, and the sprites certainly didn’t.
“Very good. In which case, order can be restored,” sniffed Queen Sychorax with satisfaction, for there was nothing that Queen Sychorax liked better than order being restored. “I will take Wish back to iron Warrior territory behind the Wall, so she will be safe if the Witches return.”
“And as for Xar…” continued Encanzo, sorrowfully, “don’t take this badly, Xar, but I do still have to take you back to Gormincrag.”
“Why?” asked Xar, in shock.
He had never heard anything more unfair in his life.
“Let me explain,” said Encanzo. “Gormincrag is not supposed to be a prison so much as a rehabilitation center…”
“They always say that!” yelled Xar in outrage. “But ‘rehabilitation center’ is just a fancy way of saying jail! You said you were proud of me! You said I was growing up! You said I did a great job at controlling the Witch-stain and being good! And now you’re going to PUNISH me for it?”
“Look, I am impressed, Xar, with how you’ve been trying to be good, I really am,” said Encanzo. “But here in real life you cannot wish away that Witch-stain, and it is only going to get worse. The Drood Commander was a bad lot, but I will go back to Gormincrag with you and make sure a new and kinder regime is installed, for that is where you will be safest until we can get rid of the Witch-stain entirely.”
“That isn’t what we need to do!” howled Xar. “We need to find the ingredients of this spell to get rid of Witches, which we found in my Spelling Book. Show him, Wish!”
Bodkin took out the Spelling Book and gave it to Wish, and she showed Encanzo and Sychorax the right page.
“Who wrote this spell?” asked Encanzo after a while.
“I did,” said Wish. “With Caliburn’s feather.”
Encanzo sighed and gave the book back to Wish.
“This isn’t a real spell. Wish ju
st made it up,” said Encanzo gently.
“What do you mean it isn’t a real spell?” said Xar, very crestfallen indeed, for he had been pinning all his hopes on that spell.
“Look!” said Encanzo, “it’s in the Write Your Own Story section, right next to a whole load of stories about Xar being the biggest hero the world has ever known. No one single spell could defeat the Witches on its own.”
“Encanzo is right, and it is just as I said,” said Queen Sychorax. “This is real life, Xar, not a fairy story. You have to be reasonable and do as you are told.”
Wish stepped forward hurriedly.
They were all going to be there forever if they had to wait for Xar to be reasonable and do as he was told.
But at least she could finally say the words she had been intending to say all along, a couple of weeks back, on the Royal Stage in iron Warrior fort.
“You are wrong, Mother, wrong!” said Wish, defiantly holding up her fist.
Sychorax started in shock.
And then she gave Wish That Look, a Look of Deepest and most Furious Disappointment, the look that generally meant that all the words that Wish had been intending to say went completely out of her head.
But standing by her friends’ sides, with Xar, Bodkin, the spoon, and all her enchanted objects, and the werewolf, the snowcats, and with two weeks of terrifying and challenging adventure behind her, Wish opened her mouth…
And carried on speaking despite That Look.
“You are wrong, Mother, wrong!” repeated Wish fiercely. “And so is King Encanzo! You HAVE to believe that the world can change, that the spells can work, that you can write your own story whatever the odds that are facing you! For it is surprising how often the universe depends on one… unlikely… chance!”
Queen Sychorax looked at her daughter.
That Look unfroze.
She remembered, once more, that she should not underestimate her peculiar little daughter.
Sychorax touched Wish on the shoulder.
“I’m sorry, Wish,” said Queen Sychorax. “You’ll understand when you’re older.”
Oh for goodness’ sake! Why do they keep saying that? thought Wish angrily. The adults clearly weren’t going to see sense whatever their children said.
The grown-ups had some growing up to do themselves.
So Wish turned with a sigh to Encanzo.
“All right then. I don’t agree with you, but if I can persuade Xar to go back with you to Gormincrag without a fight, will you and my mother at least grant us one wish?” asked Wish.
“If you can persuade Xar to go back with me without a fight, that would be a miracle,” said Encanzo. “I make you no promises about the wish, however.”
Wish took Xar aside, and whispered something in his ear.
Xar looked thoughtful.
“All right,” he said grumpily. “I’ll go back.”
“A miracle!” said Encanzo in amazement. “I must come to you, daughter of Sychorax, for Xar-training tips…”
“What is your one wish?” asked Sychorax suspiciously.
“I wish you would both grant us just one night of cease-fire,” begged Wish. “One evening banquet, here, Wizards and Warriors sitting and eating together, one night to celebrate the ONE time that Wizards and Warriors fought together side by side and defeated the Witches, and when a werewolf and a Wizard saved a Warrior princess’s life. One night, stolen out of time.”
“Just this one night?” said Encanzo thoughtfully.
“And then we go back to real life,” said Wish.
“It’s a beautiful evening,” she added persuasively. “And look! One of the giants is starting to dance!”
It was true. One of the larger giants was gently moving his long limbs in a slow dignified country dance, humming to himself and the moon above.
“And then in the morning I PROMISE I will go back to Gormincrag and even tell you how to turn my brother back from that creature into being Looter again,” said Xar, gesturing at the furious form of the Creature-That-Once-Was-Looter, being held, rather gingerly at that moment, by one of the Droods.
Queen Sychorax gave a start.
“Have you no control over your repellently disobedient son?” she said to Encanzo. “He turned his brother into that?”
“Your own offspring is not exactly a perfect example of obedience herself,” snapped Encanzo. “Do Warriors normally jaunt about the countryside in the company of Enchanted Spoons?”
This was unanswerable, and the two monarchs bonded silently for a moment over the problems of parenting.
And they were at least considering Wish’s request.
“I will not dance myself,” said Sychorax thoughtfully. “I never dance… but I would normally give my troops a little celebration after a battle like that one…”
“We in the Wizarding world would feast into the small hours,” said Encanzo.
Everyone was tired.
Everyone was hungry.
If they went their different ways right now, they would have to climb down that mountain again, and nobody particularly wanted to do that after a long, exhausting fight against the Witches. It would be irregular… most irregular… but it would mark an irregular event. And it was, by chance, Midwinter’s End Eve, the day before winter finally turned into spring.
Midwinter’s End Eve was also known as “Fool’s Day,” and things that happened on that day did not really count.
“As long as you absolutely understand, Wish,” said Sychorax sternly, “that it will be just one night, out of time. It will change nothing. We go back to war with the Wizards tomorrow morning. Both of you have to give your Wizard and Warrior words that you will come back with us tomorrow.”
Wish blinked at her innocently.
“Oh yes, Mother, what you are saying makes total sense. It would just be one night, out of time. We give our word, don’t we, Xar?”
“Absolutely,” said Xar.
“Hmmmmmm…” said Encanzo.
“Hmmmmmm…” said Sychorax.
Quite by chance they were both thinking the exact same thing, which was that they would give in to their offsprings’ request but they would not let them out of their sight for one single second.
19. Midwinter’s End Eve, Also Known as “Fool’s Day,” One Night Out of Time
So Sychorax and Encanzo turned to their subjects and ordered one night out of time.
“WARRIORS!” cried Queen Sychorax. “For this one night, I decree a cease-fire between the Warriors and the Wizards, to celebrate a historic defeat of an ancient enemy, the Witches! Tomorrow we return to our battles… Tomorrow we carry on our war… but tonight, we FEAST!”
“ONE NIGHT OUT OF TIME!” cried King Encanzo.
The Warriors and Wizards gave wondering murmurs, for this was all most unusual. But the fight had been won, and the word “feast” acted on them all like a magical elixir.
“ONE NIGHT OUT OF TIME!” the Wizards and the Warriors cried back to their monarchs.
And so began one of the most extraordinary evenings in the history of the wildwoods.
A great bonfire was built in the center of the courtyard, and the flames burned red, yellow, and also eerie blues and purples, as the Droods and the sprites added Magic fire to encourage the real flames to burn higher, and hotter.
Warriors danced with giants, whooping around the fire. The hairy fairies whizzed around in a state of high excitement, as everyone made music, Queen Sychorax’s Warriors blasting out joyful horn noises, Encanzo’s fiddles hanging in the air magically playing themselves, the giants humming happily, linking arms with each other, the sprites singing their high bright songs, of things too high for the human eye to see, sounds too low for the human ear to hear.
The giants sang their giant songs, which rolled out across the landscape:
“I need the space to run my fill
I need to jump from hill to hill
And if you take my woods from me
I’ll wander out into the
sea
And try to find another world
So I can live a GIANT life!”
The Warriors sang their own songs:
“NO FEAR! That’s the Warrior’s marching song! NO FEAR! We sing it as we march along! NO FEAR! ’Cause the Warriors’ hearts are strong! Is a Warrior heart a-wailing, is a Warrior heart a-failing, is a Warrior heart a-railing? NO FEAR!”
And the songs of the Warriors mingled with the melancholy song of werewolf:
“I’m running for the moon
Up to the moon where I can be good
When all the world gives up on me
When everyone thinks bad about me
I still have the moon
It’s me and the moon
Mostly it’s me and the moon”
Every now and then the werewolf would break off to howl, “Oooooww ooow OOOOOOOOWW!”
The sprites rushed around, wildly overexcited, playing tricks on every one with naughty games like:
Hinkypunk cast a spell on one of the Warrior’s bowls of stew, making it rise up into the air and land on his head in a sticky stewy mess. Tiffinstorm lobbed a softening spell onto some of the Warriors’ knives and forks so they went all floppy in their hands and they couldn’t lift their food up to their mouths… Bumbleboozle cast little “Stopping Time” Spells so that he could nip in and steal everyone’s food while time stopped for a blink of a second…
And Caliburn flew around, very harassed, trying to stop all these things from happening.
Xar and Wish and Bodkin watched them all dancing. “You see?” said Wish. “They can get on if they try.”
“It won’t last,” said Bodkin gloomily. “Your mother said ‘one night’ and when your mother says something she means it… Tomorrow they’re going to be quarreling and fighting all over again.”
“Grown-ups are so annoying! They always think they know best. Why won’t they listen?” said Wish.
Bodkin sighed. “Yes, but it probably IS for the best. You will be safer back in Warrior territories, Wish, and, Xar, I know it’s uncomfortable at Gormincrag, but now the Chief Drood has gone, maybe they can find an antidote for the Witch-stain.”
Twice Magic Page 16
