Fablehaven: The Complete Series (25 page)

“I don’t picture her going for it. She’ll know we’re desperate to fix Grandma.”

“We won’t give her another choice.”

Kendra bit her lip. “What if she won’t budge? She wouldn’t for Grandpa. Do we set Muriel free if she will change Grandma back?”

“No way!” said Seth. “As soon as she gets free, what keeps her from turning all of us into chickens?”

“Grandpa said you can’t use magic against others here unless they use it on you first. We never caused Muriel any harm, did we?”

“But she’s a witch,” Seth said. “Why would she be locked up if she wasn’t dangerous?”

“I’m not saying I want to let her go. I’m saying, we might be in an emergency situation where we have no other options. It might be worth the risk in order to get Grandma back to help us.”

Seth thought about that. “What if we can get her to tell us where Grandpa is?”

“Or both,” Kendra said, getting excited. “I bet she would do just about anything to be released. I’m sure she would do those two things at least. Then we might actually get out of this mess.”

“You’re right that we don’t have many options.”

“We should sleep on it,” Kendra said. “We’re both worn out. We can decide what to do in the morning.”

“Okay.”

Kendra climbed into bed, slid under the covers, let her head sink into the pillow, and fell asleep before another thought entered her mind.

* * *

“Maybe we shouldn’t have rinsed the milk out of our clothes,” Seth said. “Then we could churn butter while we walk.”

“Foul!”

“By the end of the day I might have had yogurt in my armpits.”

“You’re psychotic,” said Kendra.

“Then we could add some of Lena’s jam and make it fruit-at-the-bottom.”

“Quit it!”

Seth seemed pleased with himself. Goldilocks rode in the wheelbarrow inside a burlap sack he had found in the pantry. They had tried to bend the cage back into shape, but could not get the door to stay on. The sack had a drawstring, which they pulled snugly around the hen’s neck so her head could stick out.

It was hard to think of the chicken as Grandma Sorenson. The hen had not performed a single grandmotherly action all morning. She showed no reaction to the announcement that they were going to see Muriel, and she had laid an egg on Kendra’s bed during the night.

Kendra and Seth had awakened just before sunrise. In the barn they had found the wheelbarrow, which they determined might be easier than carrying Goldilocks the entire way to the ivy shack.

It was Kendra’s turn pushing the wheelbarrow. The chicken seemed serene. She was probably enjoying the fresh air. The weather was pleasant—sunny and warm without being hot.

Kendra wondered how the negotiations with Muriel would go. In the end, they had decided it would do no harm to see what terms they could reach with the witch. Then they could base their final decision on the facts of what Muriel would be willing to do, rather than conjecture.

They had loaded food, clothes, tools, and utensils in the wheelbarrow, in case they might be able to barter with comforts instead of freedom. Most of the clothes had been mangled on Midsummer Eve, but they found a few unshredded items for Grandma to wear in case they succeeded in transforming her. They had made sure to feed the chicken some milk in the morning, as well as to drink some themselves.

The trails to the shack were not difficult to remember. Presently they identified the leafy structure where the witch lived. Leaving the wheelbarrow, Seth carried the chicken, while Kendra collected an armful of bartering items. Kendra had already reminded Seth to stay calm and be polite no matter what happened, but she repeated the admonition.

They heard strange music as they drew near the shack, like somebody playing a rubber band while clacking castanets. When they got around to the front door, they found the grimy old hag playing a mouth harp with one hand while making her limberjack dance with the other.

“I did not hope to have visitors again so soon,” laughed the witch when her song ended. “Pity about Stanley.”

“What do you know about our Grandpa?” Seth asked.

“The woods are all abuzz with news of his abduction,” Muriel said. “The naiadic housekeeper as well, if one is to lend an ear to the gossip. Quite the scandal.”

“Do you know where they are?” Seth tried.

“Look at all the lovely gifts you brought me,” the witch gushed, clasping her veiny hands together. “The quilt is gorgeous, but it would be ruined in my humble dwelling. I’ll not let you waste your generosity on me; I would not know what to do with such niceties.”

“We brought these to trade,” Kendra said.

“Trade?” the witch asked theatrically, smacking her lips. “For my tea! Nonsense, child, I would not dream of exacting a toll for my hospitality. Come inside, and the three of us shall drink together.”

“Not to trade for tea,” Seth said, holding up Goldilocks. “We want you to change our grandma back into herself.”

“In exchange for a chicken?”

“She is the chicken,” Kendra explained.

The witch grinned, stroking her chin. “I thought I recognized her,” she mused. “You poor dears, one guardian carried off in the night, the other reduced to poultry.”

“We can offer you a quilt, a bathrobe, a toothbrush, and a lot of homemade food,” Kendra said.

“Charming as that may be,” Muriel said, “I would require the energy of a knot unraveling to work any spell capable of restoring your grandmother to her former state.”

“We can’t untie your last knot,” Seth said. “Grandpa would be furious.”

The witch shrugged. “My predicament is simple. Imprisoned in this shack, I am curtailed in my abilities. The problem has nothing to do with my willingness to compromise—the dilemma is that the only way for me to fulfill your request would be to harness the power stored in the final knot. The decision lies in your hands. I have no other options.”

“If we untie the last knot, will you also tell us where our Grandpa was taken?” Kendra asked.

“Child, I would love nothing more than to reunite you with your lost grandfather. But the truth of the matter is, I haven’t the foggiest notion where he was taken. Again, it would require loosing my knot in order for me to marshal sufficient power to discern his whereabouts.”

“Could you find Grandpa and change Grandma with the power from one knot?” Kendra asked.

“Lamentably, I would have the opportunity to accomplish only one feat or the other. Both would not be possible.”

“Unless you figure out a way, you won’t have a chance to do either,” Seth said.

“Then we have reached an impasse,” the witch apologized. “If you tell me we have no deal unless I am able to accomplish the impossible, then we have no deal. I could fulfill either of your requests, but not both.”

“If we have you change Grandma back,” Kendra asked, “could you help us find Grandpa once you’re free?”

“Perhaps,” the witch mused. “Yes, without guarantees, once free I could probably use my abilities to shed light on the location of your grandfather.”

“How do we know you won’t attack us if we let you go?” Seth asked.

“A fair question,” Muriel said. “I might be embittered by long years of imprisonment and eager to work mischief once released. However, I give you my word as a practitioner of the ancient art that I will not inflict any harm upon you or your grandmother upon my deliverance from this confinement. If I held any malice, it would be toward those who initiated my incarceration, enemies who passed from this life decades ago, not those who set me free. If anything, I would consider myself indebted.”

“And you would promise to help us find Grandpa Sorenson?” Kendra said.

“Your grandmother might refuse my help. She and your grandfather have never held me in much esteem. But if she will accept my assistance in locating Stan, I will give it.”

“We need to talk about this in private,” Kendra said.

“Be my guest,” Muriel said.

Kendra and Seth returned to the path. Kendra dumped her bartering items in the wheelbarrow. She spoke in a soft whisper. “I don’t think we have any other choice.”

“I don’t like how nice she’s being,” said Seth. “It’s almost scarier than before. I think she’s really anxious to get out.”

“I know. But I think we’re just as anxious to restore Grandma and maybe find Grandpa.”

“She’s a liar,” Seth cautioned. “I don’t think we can count on any of her promises.”

“Probably not.”

“We should expect her to attack us as soon as she’s free. If not, great, but I brought salt, whatever good that will do.”

“Don’t forget, we’ll have Grandma to help us handle her,” Kendra said.

“Grandma might not know anything about fighting witches.”

“I’m sure she’s learned a trick or two. Let’s try to ask her.”

Seth held up the hen. Kendra stroked her head gently. “Grandma Sorenson,” Kendra said. “Ruth. I need you to listen to me. If you can hear me, we need you to answer. This is very important.” The hen appeared to be listening. “Should we untie the last knot to have Muriel Taggert restore you?”

The head bobbed.

“Was that a yes?”

The head bobbed again.

“Can you give us a no?”

The hen did not respond.

“Grandma. Ruth. Can you shake your head so we can be sure you hear us?”

Again the chicken made no acknowledgment.

“Maybe it took all she had to answer your first question,” Seth speculated.

“It did seem like she nodded,” Kendra said. “And I don’t know what else we can do. Freeing the witch is a high price to pay, but is it worse than having no hope of finding Grandpa and keeping Grandma trapped forever as a chicken?”

“We should free her.”

Kendra paused, scrutinizing her feelings. Was this really their only option? It seemed to be. “Let’s go back,” she agreed.

They returned to the doorway of the shack. “We want you to restore Grandma,” Kendra said.

“You will voluntarily sunder my last knot, the final impediment to my independence, if I restore your grandmother to her human form?”

“Yes. How do we do it?”

“Just say ‘of my own free will I sever this knot’ and then blow on it. You should probably find something for your grandmother to wear. She will not have any clothes on.”

Kendra ran to the wheelbarrow and returned with the bathrobe and a pair of slippers. Muriel stood in the doorway, clutching the rope. “Lay your grandmother at my threshold,” she instructed.

“I want to blow on the knot,” Seth said.

“Sure,” Kendra answered.

“You let Grandma out of the bag.”

Kendra squatted and pulled the mouth of the bag wide open. Muriel held the rope out to Seth. The chicken looked up, ruffling her feathers and flapping her wings. Kendra tried to steady her, disgusted by the feel of slender bones moving beneath her hands.

“Of my own free will, I sever this knot,” Seth said, as Goldilocks squawked noisily. He blew, and the knot unraveled.

Muriel extended both hands over the flustered hen and began softly chanting indecipherable words. The air wavered. Kendra squeezed the squirming hen. At first it felt like bubbles were shooting through the flesh of the bird; then the delicate bones started to churn. Kendra dropped Goldilocks and stepped back.

Kendra saw everything as if through fun-house lenses. Muriel appeared distorted, first stretching broad, then tall. Seth became an hourglass with a wide head, a tiny waist, and clownish feet. Rubbing her eyes failed to cure her warped vision. When she looked down, the ground curved away in all directions. She leaned and swung her arms to maintain her balance.

The fun-house Muriel began to ripple, as did the startling image of Goldilocks shedding feathers as she expanded into a person. The scene grew dim, as if clouds had blocked the sun, and a dark aura gathered around Muriel and Grandma. The darkness expanded, momentarily obscuring everything, and then Grandma stood before them, completely naked. Kendra put the bathrobe over her shoulders.

From inside the shack came a sound like the rushing of a terrible wind. The ground rumbled. “Get down,” Grandma said, pulling Kendra to the ground. Seth also fell flat.

A furious gale blasted the walls of the shack into shrapnel. The roof rocketed beyond the treetops, a geyser of wooden confetti. The stump split down the center. Fragments of timber and ivy whistled in all directions, clattering against the trunks of trees and slashing through the undergrowth.

Kendra raised her head. Dressed in rags, Muriel gaped in wonder. Chips of wood continued to fall like hail, along with fluttering bits of ivy. Muriel grinned, displaying deformed teeth and inflamed gums. She began to chuckle, tears brimming in her eyes. She flung her wrinkled arms wide. “Emancipation!” she cried. “Justice at last!”