Meanwhile, Bodkin had left Pook’s Hill by the western entrance. It was lucky that he was still in the body of Xar, for it meant that he could use Xar’s powers and make himself invisible. He had a piece of map torn from the Spelling Book, and it said the Isle of the Nuckalavee was opposite somewhere called the Beach of Shoes, and that was to the west.
Bodkin had a slight setback when he saw the huge dark outlines of the Witches roosting in the treetops above him, like gigantic crows. Even though he knew they couldn’t see him, he passed out on the back of Nighteye. When he woke up again a few seconds later, he was so rigid with fear, his hands clutching Nighteye’s fur hadn’t even unclenched. Looking back over his shoulder as Nighteye ran on, he could see that the Witches were still unmoving.
After a while, when it seemed clear that he wasn’t being followed, he stopped Nighteye and turned himself visible again, for he didn’t know how long he would continue to inhabit the body of Xar, and when he was back in his own body, he wouldn’t have any magical powers at all. Even the staff that Perdita had given him was with Xar now, so he couldn’t use that. Not that “sticking things to other things” was likely to be all that useful when you were facing what must be the terrible nightmare of the Nuckalavee…
I have the sword, though! I can use the sword, thought Bodkin with excitement. As he rode on, he was still elated at leaving the school without being discovered.
I’ll show Wish what a hero I can be… I’ve betrayed her, but now I will prove myself.
But then there was a dreadful scream behind him, which was the sound of the triumphant Witches discovering the hole in the Magic that Bodkin had made when he took the iron Enchanted Sword out of Pook’s Hill. In terror, Bodkin thought it might be the Witches coming after him. He urged Nighteye on, on. He had entered a bit of the forest that had been scorched to the ground by Sychorax’s wildfire, so the burned landscape was depressing. And by the time he found a place to sleep for the night, the enormity of what he had done was beginning to creep over him.
He shivered under brambles, trying to get to sleep on a cold, cold night, hugging as close as he could to Nighteye in the hope of getting some warmth. The snowcat’s fur was soaked through. Her tail was in a puddle. Bodkin cried himself to sleep.
Xar and Wish left from the western entrance about an hour after Bodkin. They also escaped without apparently being detected by the Witches, who were now attacking Encanzo and Looter on the other side of Pook’s Hill. On and away they flew on the back of the Enchanted Door, just above the level of the undergrowth, following the very faint noise of the running snowcats and wolves, who were panting with fear as they ran through the burned forest. Wish and Xar looked over their shoulders every two or three minutes to check that they were not being pursued by Witches.
To Wish’s intense relief, the snowcats following the traces of Bodkin’s path were heading farther and farther west. So Bodkin must have gotten away without the Witches seeing him, thought Wish jubilantly.
After a while, they felt confident that they were far enough away to turn themselves visible again. And Xar let Squeezjoos out of his pocket. The little sprite was recovered from the odd attacks that seemed to beset him when he was too close to Witches, but he was terribly upset. “Why dids you shut me up?” asked Squeezjoos.
“It was for your own good, Squeezjoos,” said Xar. “You have to trust me. I know best.”
Squeezjoos could not stay cross with Xar for long. He looked into Xar’s eyes and licked him on the face. “It’s true!” said Squeezjoos. “You DOESSS know best!”
Eventually they were too tired to go any farther.
Squeezjoos was so exhausted that he actually crawled back into Xar’s pocket and did up the buttons himself. Lonesome had a thorn in his paw and was limping.
“We need to sleep,” said Xar. “Daytime is a better time for traveling anyway—less chance of Witches. We’ll catch up with Bodkin and Nighteye tomorrow.” Xar was in a belligerent mood, exhilarated to be back on their quest again, but still oddly cross with Perdita for letting them go. “Nobody wants us, even her, but we can do this on our own.”
Talking about Perdita made him look in his pocket for the thing that she had given him just before he left. It was one of her handkerchiefs, wrapped tightly around something in a little bottle, and when he unwound it, out fell…
“The Droods’ tears!” gasped Caliburn. “The fifth ingredient in the spell to get rid of Witches!”
Sure enough, there were five shining tears of the Drood from the Lake of the Lost, gleaming like dark diamonds in the center of the bottle.
“My sister trusts me again!” said Caliburn. “Even though I made a mistake last time!”
“She trusts me too!” said Xar, all his ill humor disappearing. “Even though I have the Witch-stain.”
“There’s a note,” said Wish, picking up a piece of paper that had been wrapped around the bottle along with the handkerchief.
The note was in Perdita’s handwriting and read: