Trees, thought Flax. Trees!

She lay on her back, looking up at the leaves and branches that covered the lower slopes of Mount Tangle.

They weren’t as nice as the leaves and branches of the Floating Forest. But they were a hundred times better than roads, towns, automobiles and angry humans.

She wanted to lie here for days.

A wet nose touched her ear. ‘Flax,’ said the pup in a quiet voice, ‘what happened to your magic?’

Flax closed her eyes, remembering her terrible confession. ‘I’m sorry,’ she whispered. ‘I should have told you earlier.’

‘Is it really all gone?’ asked Rose.

Flax nodded. ‘I only inherited a few threads from Grandpa. And even though I tried and tried, I could only catch a few more.’

‘But where did it go?’ asked the pup.

‘Someone must have used it,’ said Flax. ‘And stuffed the satchel with moss to make up for it. I don’t think it was Grandpa. Maybe it was his grandma. Or his great grandma. They probably thought it didn’t matter, because the dragon hadn’t come near us for a hundred years.’

She opened her eyes and said miserably, ‘But now it does matter … ’

‘So how do we fight the dragon?’ asked the pup.

‘I don’t know,’ whispered Flax.

No one spoke for a while. Then Rose said, ‘If you haven’t got any magic left, how did you turn your sword into a key?’

Flax sat up and unsheathed the sword. ‘It’s got its own magic.’

‘Of course I have,’ said the sword.

The pup flattened his ears. Rose jerked back in surprise. ‘Your sword can talk?’

The sword snorted. ‘Do you have any more silly questions?’

‘But – but how can you talk?’ asked Rose. ‘I’ve never heard of such a thing.’

‘Just as I have never heard of a quite ordinary fourth chambermaid,’ said the sword. ‘But here we both are. Now, what do you need me to do? Cut up a sandwich? I’m good at sandwiches. Triangles or squares? Crusts on or off?’

The pup licked his lips. ‘What about bacon? Derk and Gav had bacon, but it was a nasty trick. I want bacon without nasty tricks.’

The mention of bacon reminded Flax of something that had been worrying her.

‘Those two men were working for someone. They called her the Lady—’

‘The Lady?’ shrieked the sword. ‘She is part of this? Oh no. Oh no no no no no. Sheathe me again, minch-wiggin, and hide me under a bush somewhere. Not the Lady. No no no, never the Lady.’

Flax stared at it. ‘You know who she is?’

‘No idea,’ the sword said quickly. ‘Absolutely no idea at all.’

Only now it was a cake tin. And it was trembling.

Rose leaned towards it. ‘Why are you so scared?’

‘Because I value my life,’ snapped the cake tin. ‘It’s only a very small life, but it’s mine, and I would like to keep it. If you had any sense, you’d be scared, too.’

‘But who is she?’ asked Flax.

The cake tin shrank a little. ‘Is there anyone nearby who might overhear us? Anyone with feathers on their elbows, and silence where their heartbeat should be?’

The day seemed to grow suddenly colder. ‘The Lady is a witch?’ squeaked Flax.

‘Shhh, not so loud,’ whispered the cake tin. ‘She is not just a witch. She is the witch. She is the leader of them all.’

I told you we should have stopped while things were going well. But you didn’t listen, did you?

Listen to me now.

There is a witch in this story.

The witch.

So you must be prepared.

I suggest you leave the rest of your green jellybabies with me, and hide under the bed covers until the story is done.

It is all right to tremble.

Everyone trembles when it comes to the Lady.