.16.

A COOPERATIVE WITCHLING

For the next day, and the day after that, Quicksilver and Fox spent their time learning how to be witch and monster, while Anastazia lounged on a rock in the sun, sometimes giving instructions and sometimes falling asleep in the middle of lunch.

“Again,” barked Anastazia, after Quicksilver and Fox’s fourth failed attempt at producing a successful glamour—a magical disguise that changed her face to look like someone else.

“But I’m tired,” whined Fox, collapsing dramatically in the middle of the clearing that had become their home. The thick stretch of oak trees that hid them from the road rustled lazily in the warm breeze. “Can’t we work on this later? Perhaps we could be on our way to find the bones and practice as we go?”

Quicksilver shot him a look. I don’t want to go yet!

Ah, but I do, Fox replied. Magic practiced in a safe, quiet clearing doesn’t really count. We need to test ourselves! He paused, cocking his head to look at her. Are you frightened of leaving?

All right, now you’re just being mean. Of course I’m not frightened. I just like it here, that’s all. But Quicksilver avoided Fox’s keen gaze, hoping he couldn’t sense the truth—that she was, in fact, the tiniest bit frightened of this unfamiliar, long-ago world.

And that she worried that hunting for bones would rather get in the way of thieving.

“Oh, yes, Fox, what a grand idea,” said Anastazia, with an enormous roll of her eyes. “And what if we were to encounter the Wolf King on the road, with Quicksilver still getting worn out after only five minutes of work, and you only able to dependably shift into birdies and kitties and itty-bitty mouses?”

“Isn’t it mice?” Quicksilver pointed out.

“I’ll say it how I like, and so will you, once you’re an old woman.”

“So,” said Quicksilver, putting her hands on her hips, “just because you’re old, you can say whatever you like, even if it’s wrong?”

“That’s about the crux of it, yes.”

“Well, that’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard! I could never get away with saying wrong things, even when I was small!”

Anastazia sneered. “The sky is purple, unicorns are evil, and life isn’t fair. These are the facts of it, my dear.”

“Don’t call me ‘my dear,’” Quicksilver snapped. “I’m you. It’s strange.”

I’d consider backing off, master, Fox thought calmly to her. She looks ready to burst.

“She looks ready to collapse into a blob of wrinkles!” Quicksilver cried, so flustered that she forgot to keep her thoughts between herself and Fox.

Anastazia shot to her feet. “Look good and hard, girl, for this is your future. Now, try again, or so help me, I’ll—”

But then Anastazia stopped. For of course she couldn’t do anything at all these days, except for perhaps irritate someone to death. She no longer had a Fox, and therefore whatever magic remained in her blood lay cold and dormant.

Anastazia returned to her rock, arranging her cloak about her and avoiding Quicksilver’s gaze. She looked out at the meadow full of grazing cows and said quietly, “If you’ll try once more, please.”

Quicksilver wished she wasn’t so angry and could comfort Anastazia without losing something of her pride. To be without a Fox was not a fate she would wish on any version of herself, no matter how old and wrinkled and mean.

“Quicksilver!” cried Sly Boots, hurrying into the clearing, his arms full of goods from town. “Anastazia! Wonderful news—I’ve found help! A whole group of witches, traveling together. They were in town at the market, and I noticed them because of their monsters and hair, of course, and I told them about you, and how you’re going to fight the Wolf King. They said they’d help us, so now we can do everything faster and go home sooner—”

Anastazia jumped up from the rock and slapped Sly Boots.

He dropped his parcels and held his cheek. “Are you mad?”

“Are you mad, boy? I don’t want other witches here! We work alone. We can’t trust anyone else! Our mission is dangerous, and the Wolf King has many spies. Anyone we meet might be listening with his ears, seeing with his eyes—”

Voices came from the nearby trees. “Hello?” someone called out. “Don’t be afraid. We’re friends, and we only want to speak with you.”

Quicksilver saw the fear and anger on Anastazia’s face and chose to do something about it. Urgency gave her mind a new focus. She sent an image to Fox: the four of them disappearing into a shell that, to others, would look exactly like the surrounding world.

Good idea, Fox thought, and in a flash of soft golden light, he dissolved and circled round them all like a curtain—except the curtain was invisible, and soon so were they.

“Move closer together,” Fox murmured, from somewhere behind Quicksilver’s left ear.

“What just happened?” Sly Boots whispered.

Quicksilver felt the touch of a rough hand on her own. “Excellent cloaking spell,” came Anastazia’s low voice. “Well done.”

Quicksilver said nothing, though warmth blossomed inside her.

A group of people entered the clearing, led by a young man perhaps three years older than Sly Boots. His hair was white as the glowing far moon, as was the owl monster on his shoulder.

“Hello?” the young man called. “Is anyone there?”

When silence greeted him, the young man raised his hands. “I promise, we’re not your enemies.”

Anastazia snorted quietly. “But they would be, given the opportunity. I’ve seen it dozens of times. I’ve done it dozens of times. Witches can’t be trusted.”

“Does that mean I shouldn’t trust you?” whispered Quicksilver.

“Only fools lie to themselves.”

“Hush, both of you,” Fox whispered.

“We too flee the Wolf King,” said the young man. “We make for the western mountains.”

“Hah!” Anastazia let out a single harsh laugh.

The young man’s head whipped toward the sound. “Do you know, I think that might be the best cloaking spell I’ve ever seen? It’s too bad you forgot to cloak your sounds as well. I might’ve given up and left in a moment.”

Fox groaned. Sorry, master. I tried my best.

It’s all right, Fox. We’ll get better.

“I’m sorry, I couldn’t help laughing,” said Anastazia. “That anyone could flee the Wolf King, or be safe in the western mountains . . . it’s too senseless an idea to be tolerated.”

Quicksilver sighed irritably. “Show us, Fox.”

Fox shimmered into existence at their feet. “All things considered, I was actually quite enjoying that,” he said. “It felt like swimming.”

“It felt like being strangled,” Sly Boots hissed, patting himself as if to make sure nothing was missing.

The young man approached them with a smile. “Hello, sisters. My name is Olli—”

“Oh, save your sisters bit for the idiot you find next,” Anastazia snarled. “We won’t fall for it.”

“Fall for what, exactly?”

Quicksilver stepped forward. “Who are you?” she demanded. “Speak clearly, or leave us be.”

“Ah! A cooperative witchling! My name is Olli, and this is my coven.” He gestured to include the witches standing behind him. Their monsters gleamed like jewels on their hats, on their shoulders, peeking out of their pockets.

“Coven?” Anastazia spat, but Quicksilver spoke over her.

“What’s a coven?”

“Dear child, a coven is a group of witches who live and fight together,” said Olli. “Surely you’ve heard the term?”

“Oh, yes, I’ve heard the term,” Anastazia said. “I’ve heard of witches in covens turning on one another, falling prey to suspicion and jealousy, launching themselves and others into chaos, leaving many dead and wounded behind—including witches.” Anastazia drew herself up, her lip curling. “Don’t you understand what’s happening, boy? What’s beginning? The Wolf King won’t stop until he kills us all, and we’re doomed if we try to fight together. Witches who try to live together only ever end up destroying themselves. It’s our way. So make your covens, yes, go on and try it—and soon you’ll have done the Wolf King’s job for him.”

Some of the witches in Olli’s coven shifted restlessly, glancing at one another. Some moved away from the group to stand glowering in the shadows, their monsters pacing at their feet.

“But that’s exactly why we have to try this grand experiment!” Olli put his hands on his hips. “If we stand and fight together, we will not be so easy to hunt.”

“When a wolf pack hunts,” Anastazia countered, “they corner a herd until it panics. Then they pick off the weakest. And these wolves will do this again, and again, and again, until we’ve been wiped clean from the world, because they never tire.” She added, low, “I’ve seen it hundreds of times.”

Olli’s eyebrows shot up. “Hundreds of times?”

Quicksilver’s heart jumped in fear. What would Olli do, if he figured out their secret?

Anastazia froze, and then recovered.

“Perhaps I was a little dramatic,” she said smoothly, “but you understand my meaning. The only way to survive is to hide, and hide alone. If you want to fight him, go ahead. Just don’t drag anyone else down with you.”

“And is that the kind of life you would want for us?” Olli asked. “A lonely life in the shadows?” He turned to Quicksilver, his shock of white hair catching the sunlight. “What do you think, girl?”

Quicksilver bristled. “My name’s Quicksilver. Don’t call me ‘girl.’”

“My apologies, Quicksilver. I meant no offense. What do you think of our little coven? Will you travel with us, even if only for a time? To try it out? We’re stronger together. I truly believe that. And . . .” He glanced at Fox. “You’ve just started practicing, haven’t you? He seems only days old.”

The hair on Fox’s neck stood up. “I’m six years old, thank you very much. That’s forty-two in dog years.”

“I only meant your monstrous age.”

Fox sniffed and said nothing.

“Wouldn’t it be nice to learn from not just one witch, but many?” Olli asked. “And from witches who still have their monsters with them?”

The clearing filled with silence, and Anastazia seemed to shrink where she stood. Fox trotted over to her, pressed himself against her leg, and licked her sleeve. Her gnarled hand shook as she petted his ears.

She misses him, Quicksilver and Fox thought to each other at the same time.

“I apologize, sister,” Olli said quietly. “I don’t mean to make light of your grief. The loss of a monster is a terrible thing.”

“You know nothing about my grief,” said Anastazia in a deadly voice. “So speak nothing of it.”

Olli nodded, stood with his head bowed for a moment, and then said, “So, Quicksilver? What do you think?”

I think, Quicksilver thought to Fox, that these witches’ pockets look awfully full.

I was thinking very much the same thing, answered Fox in a smug tone. Must be quite taxing for them, to travel with those heavy packs.

Perhaps we should relieve them of their burdens?

Master, I would be only too delighted to grant them such a courtesy.

Quicksilver swallowed her smile. “If we do travel with you—when we decide to leave, you’ll allow us to do so with no trouble?”

Olli put his hand over his heart. “That’s a promise, Quicksilver.”

The sight of Olli smiling at her left Quicksilver feeling rather undone. She blushed and looked away.

Anastazia shoved her way between them.

“One moment, please,” she said through gritted teeth. “I need to speak with my student.”

Anastazia guided Quicksilver toward the fence at the meadow’s edge. Then she bent down to meet Quicksilver’s eyes, her joints popping. “What do you think you’re doing?” she whispered. “You’ve never known witches as I have, we can’t trust—”

“What we can’t do,” said Quicksilver, talking over her, “is practice in this field forever.” Even if we want to, she added silently. Even if we’re afraid.

Fox sent her a wave of encouragement through their heart link. We’ve markets to rob and coin to steal, eh, master?

Indeed we do, Fox. Quicksilver stood tall, forcing Anastazia to take a step back.

“You don’t understand—” Anastazia began, shaking her head.

“I understand perfectly,” said Quicksilver. “I’m the one with the magic now, so you can either come with us, or you can stay here.”

Then, before Anastazia had the chance to reply, Quicksilver marched back over to where Olli stood waiting and held out her hand once more.

He grinned and lightly slapped her palm. “Welcome to the coven, Quicksilver.”