One Witch at a Time (17 page)

Rudi stared at Agatha. “You lied to me!”

Agatha paled, but she stood her ground. “I had no choice! Stealing his magic is the only way to defeat him. I will not live my life in endless winter!”

A familiar pang of sympathy swirled around Rudi's anger and frustration. “There must be some other way,” he said. “Isn't there, mistress? Can't you help?”

The witch cocked an eyebrow. “I told you once before, I has no power in Petz.”

“So there it is,” said Agatha. “No one can help me. Not even a witch. I'm sorry I lied to you, Rudi. But I'm not sorry I kept the beans.”

Rudi rubbed his sweaty hands on his pants. “Please, mistress. The Giant is a tyrant. He's the one who's stolen, from the folk of Petz. He keeps them locked in winter, and near starving. He holds them prisoner in their own land. Agatha is only trying to gain back what is rightfully theirs. She escaped to Klausen on her own, even without a beanstalk.”

The witch raised an eyebrow. “Is that so? How did you manage that, girl? The border of Petz is blocked by an enchantment.”

“I had no trouble,” Agatha protested. “The stories aren't true.”

“Hmph,”
said the witch, shaking the hatchet at Agatha. “There's no story that doesn't have a grain of truth, girl. That's what stories is for.”

“Please, mistress,” said Rudi. “Can't you give her any advice?”

“I
just gave advice,” said the witch. “Here's more: Rules is rules. No one can ignore the rules without paying the price. The folk of Petz has their witch, and must make do until such time as he is
not
their witch. Now, up that beanstalk with
all
the Giant's magic, before he comes down here again.”

“But isn't
that
against the rules?” said Rudi. “The Giant coming to Brixen?”

“I should say so,” declared the witch. “Now up you go, girl, because that infernal vine is coming down.” She handed the golden eggs and the pouch of beans to Agatha, who pushed them deep into her pockets.

“I'm going too,” said Rudi.

Agatha frowned at him. “You don't trust me, do you?”

Rudi's face burned, but he didn't care. “It doesn't matter, really. Petz is your concern, as it should be. But my concern is Brixen. And the only way for me to know that Brixen is safe from the foreign magic is to see for myself that it's returned properly. And so I'm going with you to Petz.”

“ 'Tis decided, then,” said the Brixen Witch. “But hurry back, Rudolf. That beanstalk is coming down at sunset.” She paused and looked over her shoulder. “Or whenever I thinks sunset ought to be.”

Now the witch turned to Agatha. “Take heart, child. Rules is rules, and nothing lasts forever. Pay attention, and your time will come. You has a choice.” She waved them up the mountain once more. “Off with you now. And don't forget that there chicken!”

Rudi and Agatha
hiked to the peak of the Berg in stony silence.

Before long, they arrived at the border. The beanstalk was still there, and so was the broken signpost, and the ice field that ended abruptly at the border. Everything looked exactly as Rudi and Susanna had left it.

Trying not to look at the spot where the snow finch had shattered and blown away, Rudi began to climb the beanstalk. He recalled his promise to Susanna—that he would tell Agatha about the snow finch—but just now he didn't feel like talking. So he climbed in silence, letting Not-Hildy's burlap sack swing gently from his belt.

Finally, from below him on the vine, Agatha said, “I am sorry, Rudi.”

“No, you're not,”
Rudi shot back. “You said you're not.”

“I wasn't before,” she admitted. “But I am now. I didn't know the trouble it would cause.” She was quiet for a moment. “I was thinking only of myself. And of Petz, of course. But now I know the world is bigger than that. And that everything is connected.”

Rudi considered this, and decided it was a brave and honest thing to say. But it wasn't enough. “What else have you lied about?”

Agatha sputtered. “N-nothing!”

Rudi sighed in disappointment and exasperation. “What about the snow finch?”

“What snow finch?”

And so Rudi told Agatha about the snow finch, leaving out no detail. How the tiny, fragile bird had flitted across the enchanted border from Petz into Brixen, had turned to ice, and was gone.

Agatha gasped. “The poor thing!” There was a pause, and then in an awed whisper she said, “Just like in the stories.”

“It's not a story,” he said, a little too sharply. “It's true, and I've seen it. No one crosses the enchanted border unless the Giant permits it.” Now he stopped and looked down at the top of Agatha's copper-colored head. “Not even you.”

She swiped at the leaves that had fallen onto her hair. “
What are you saying, Rudi? Do you think the Giant
let
me cross the border with his magic beans?”

“I truly don't know,” he answered. “But you had some kind of help. And you've already lied to me once. So why should I believe you about this?” He knew the words stung, but it couldn't be helped.

She looked up at him now, and her brown eyes did not waver from his gaze. “I will ask
you
why. If witches guard their magic so jealously, if one witch's magic in another witch's province causes so much trouble, then
why
would the Giant help me—or even
let
me—take his magic out of Petz?”

Rudi stared at her for a long moment, and his indignation sputtered. He couldn't think of a good reason why.

“I did lie about returning the beans,” she said again. “And I've already told you, I'm truly sorry. But I haven't lied to you about anything else. I promise.”

And he believed her, but he did not say so out loud. “Even so,” he said. “How did you cross the border without turning to ice? Not even the smallest, most insignificant creature can do that.”

Agatha only gave a pitiful shrug.

They climbed in silence once more, but this time it was a thoughtful silence. Gradually the vine tilted and became a level path. As they walked, Rudi filled his pockets with bean pods. He would give them to Ludwig as a gift. It was the least he could do.

“I liked your witch,”
ventured Agatha after a while. “Susanna was right about her. She can be testy, but she's kind. I wish Petz had a witch who was kind.”

“Well,” said Rudi absently as he picked at a tender pod and ate it. “The Brixen Witch did say that nothing lasts forever.” As soon as he said this, the back of his neck tingled. He shuddered and brushed at his neck, wondering if a leaf had fallen from the vine. But there was nothing there.

“Ha!” said Agatha. “And where do you suppose we could find another witch? Because we could use one in Petz.”

A memory nudged at Rudi. “The Brixen Witch explained once where a new witch comes from. She said it only takes someone with a gift for magic. It's not such a rare thing either.” He felt his face burning. “Or so I'm told.”

“Really?” said Agatha, who didn't seem to notice. “Do you know anyone with a gift for magic?”

Rudi gave a short laugh. “Oma says Susanna Louisa knows a magic bean when she sees one.”

“Do
you
think Susanna Louisa might have the makings of a witch?”

Rudi's laugh became tangled with a cough. “I'm not sure.”

Now Agatha laughed. “I thought your grandmother was a witch!”

“Just
because she was with you when the beanstalk sprouted on the riverbank?”

“Isn't that enough?” said Agatha. “She told me herself that no one else had been able to make it sprout. But there we were, just your Oma and I, and
whoosh
! Up it went. Very witchy, yes? Of course, that was before I met your real witch.”

Now Rudi recalled how Susanna Louisa had thrown a bean onto the riverbank, expecting it to sprout, sure that it was magic. But it hadn't sprouted when she'd wanted it to.

So perhaps, despite her talents, Susanna Louisa did not quite have the makings of a witch after all.

How did a person become a witch, then, if it wasn't enough to be born with a gift for magic? Practice? Patience? Paying attention? Perhaps all of those things.

“Mayhaps your Oma
is
a witch,” said Agatha, waking Rudi from his thoughts. “Or would be, if you didn't already have a witch.” She plucked a tender bean pod and smiled at Rudi. The first genuine smile he'd seen from her. It made his heart leap.

The beanstalk became a ladder once more. Soon they would be in Petz. Inside her burlap sack Not-Hildy gave a contented cluck, as if she knew she was almost home.

And then, all at once, their feet touched solid ground. It was exactly where Rudi remembered it would be—below the village, behind a stand of wind-battered
pines. Rudi and Agatha bundled themselves against the bitter cold and trooped up the icy slope, past the weather-beaten houses adorned with mistletoe.

Rudi thought again of how Agatha had lied about the magic beans. Now, as they walked through the bleak and frozen landscape, he forgave her utterly. How could he blame Agatha for wanting the summer back? Especially when it had been stolen by a selfish and hateful witch?

They arrived at Ludwig's cottage, and the reunion was everything Rudi had imagined it would be: tears and hugs and shouts of joy. Ludwig thanked Rudi for the bean pods, and for seeing his daughter safely home. Rudi thanked Ludwig, too, and returned the mittens and the scarf and the fur-lined hat. Ludwig insisted that Rudi keep the hat, as a token of thanks from the good folk of Petz. Rudi accepted the gift but would not accept a meal, or even a cup of tea. He had an errand to finish, and he needed to return home before sundown.

“I'll let you two say your good-byes, then,” said Ludwig. He shook Rudi's hand, smothered him in a fleeting hug, and was gone inside the house.

“I will take the Giant's things,” Rudi told Agatha. “There's no need for you to worry your father any more.”

She frowned. “It doesn't seem right to send you to finish what I started.”

“I don't mind,” said Rudi. “It's the least I can do, since I wasn't able to help you get your summer back.”

Agatha gave him the magic beans, and the eggs, and Not-Hildy, who dozed peacefully in her warm sack as if she were under an enchantment. “Don't blame yourself,” she said. “I suppose it was not meant to be. But Brixen is safe. I'm home again with Papa. I'm content with that.” And Rudi was sure she meant it, though her smile had lost its brightness.

“Well, then,” he said, shuffling his feet. He suddenly remembered how he'd daydreamed about kissing her good-bye. Now that the moment had come, he realized what a silly idea it was. “I'm glad to have met you. And I don't care what it looks like around here. Petz is a nice place.” He offered his hand, and Agatha shook it briefly. Her hand was warm, despite the cold.

“I'm off, then,” he said.

“You remember the way?”

“Yes. I just need the key.” Rudi held out his hand once more.

Agatha blinked at him. “I don't have the key. You have the key.”

They stared at each other for a moment, their breath rising in clouds around their heads.

Then Rudi remembered. “We left it! We left it in the doorway.”

“Now what?” said Agatha. “Will it still be there? Or has he found it? How will you get in?”

Rudi swallowed his panic. They had been through too much to be defeated now.
Think,
he told himself.
Pay attention. You weren't born with the talent. But you've learned. You are equal to the task.

And then he remembered something else, and suddenly everything made sense.

“Agatha,” said Rudi. “The Brixen Witch said that some people are born with a gift for magic. And some of
those
people learn better than others how to use that gift.”

She brushed a strand of copper-colored hair out of her face. “What are you talking about, Rudi?”

“The Brixen Witch also told us that nothing lasts forever. And that rules is rules.”

“What rules?”

“Rules for magic. One witch at a time.”

“Yes?” She rubbed her hands to warm them.

Rudi glanced around him quickly. There was no one else in the snowy lane. “Agatha, how did you cross the border without meeting the snow finch's fate?”

She shook her head, confused. “I already told you, I don't know.”

“And how did the beanstalk sprout on the riverbank? When you and Oma were there together?”

“I don't know that, either. It just . . . happened.”

“No,” he said, stomping his feet in the cold. “Something caused it to sprout. Think. What happened? Remember every detail.”

Agatha frowned in concentration. “We were walking past the footbridge,” she said. “Your Oma was showing me which way you'd gone. She told me to find you and then to hurry on home so my family wouldn't worry . . . and that made me think about Papa. . . .” She looked up at Rudi, her eyes wide. “And then the beanstalk sprouted.
Whoosh!
”

Rudi stared back at her. “Only a witch could have done that,” he said. “And if there's one thing I've learned, it's this: My grandmother is
not
a witch.”

Agatha squinted at
him. Her face had gone pale. “Rudi,” she whispered, “are you saying that
I
—”

“You have a gift, Agatha,” he said in a rush. “The beanstalk on the riverbank. Escaping from Petz on your own. You performed an enchantment, and you disarmed an enchantment already put forth. And what about the cats? And Zick-Zack!”

“But . . . it can't be that simple, can it?”