Serafina’s heart leaped in her chest. Here was someone who wanted to know how she felt and might actually be able to help her! She felt as if a wall were breaking inside her as all the confusion over Alek poured out in a flood of hopes and fears. She told the fairy about how much she and Alek loved each other, of the plans they’d shared, and how those plans had been dashed the night she went to collect her inheritance. The fairy seemed to know all about the responsibilities of a Baba Yaga and even had some things to tell Serafina.
“There wouldn’t be a Baba Yaga if a crazy witch by that name hadn’t lied to a fairy long ago. The fairy got so angry that she cursed the witch, making her answer truthfully to the first question anyone asked her. It didn’t take long for Baba Yaga to tire of answering questions, especially when she saw how doing so made her grow older and none of her own magic could make her any younger. She dug up skulls and bones to make a fence that would scare people off. When that didn’t work, she resorted to killing her visitors. It was her magic that made the skulls talk and stay with her when the cottage moved. She was the cat’s first owner and made him talk, too, so he could be her spy.”
“She sounds like a dreadful person!” exclaimed Serafina. “What happened to her?”
“She grew older with each question and finally died of old age, a much kinder end than she gave to her victims. The old witch’s final cruelty was to pass on the curse to her last visitor, a young woman who had come to ask a question despite the danger.”
“So the young woman became the next Baba Yaga?”
“She did, indeed. The witch couldn’t end the curse, but she could add to it. She made sure that others would inherit the job. Unlike her, they would all be innocent and pure of heart: the people she hated the most.”
“And the blue rose tea?” asked Serafina.
“I took pity on the innocents the witch cursed,” said the fairy. “I told the new Baba Yaga that drinking the tea would return her to the age she would have been if the curse hadn’t aged her. Each Baba Yaga was supposed to pass the knowledge on to the next, but things have gotten a bit jumbled over the years.”
“Were you the fairy the witch lied to—the one who put the curse on her?”
Summer Rose nodded. “I’ve never been able to abide liars.”
“Thank you for telling me all this. The cat doesn’t like answering questions, and that book tells me very little.”
“The book was just meant to get the new Baba Yaga started. It was never supposed to tell you what to do once you were able to figure things out for yourself. As for the cat, he has a mind of his own. He’ll help you only if he wants to, and even then you might not always consider him very helpful. I wish I could help you more, but I’m going away now and I’m not sure when I’ll be back.” The fairy smiled and patted Serafina’s arm. “I just wanted to say that you shouldn’t be discouraged and that I think you should see your Alek. Everyone needs a little encouragement now and then.”
Serafina practically flew into the cottage. She’d made up her mind; she’d brew a cup of blue rose tea, drink it, then tell the cottage to return to Mala Kapusta, where she’d wait for Alek to show up even if there was fighting going on. The thought of seeing him again was enough to make her smile. Humming to herself, she put the kettle on to boil and did a little dance step as she carried the clay jar holding the blue rose tea from the cupboard to the table. She was turning to check on the water when she heard Boris shout. Before she could get to the door, it banged open and five men dressed in homespun clothes barged into the cottage, nearly filling the room.
The men moved aside as the roughest-looking one drew closer, almost stepping on Maks, who was standing, back arched and hissing, between him and Serafina. When the man drew back his foot as if to kick the cat, Serafina scooped up the animal, holding him out of the man’s way.
“We’re here to get some questions answered,” the man snarled, looking down his long, narrow nose at her. Serafina’s eyes were drawn to his mouth, where a scar crossed both of his lips. When Serafina didn’t say anything, he said in a louder voice, “Answer me, girl. Are you Baba Yaga or not?”
The cat stopped squirming to turn his green-eyed gaze on Serafina’s face. “I am Baba Yaga,” she answered in her Baba Yaga voice.
“Is it true that you have to answer our questions with the truth?” asked a short man with a bright red burn mark on his face.
“I must answer the first question you ask me with the truth,” Serafina said, aware that they’d now wasted two questions.
“What do you mean, the first question?” asked the leader.
“Maybe it means she’s not going to answer any others,” said the man with the burn.
“I don’t need your help,” his leader told him, cuffing the back of the shorter man’s head. “So tell me,” the man said to Serafina. “How can I break into the home of Master Vasylko Demidas, the richest man in the kingdom, so that I might steal his gold?”
Serafina wasn’t surprised that he was a thief or that he would ask such an unsavory question. “Actually, you already asked me a question. I’m not able to answer more than one for each person.”
She flinched when he grabbed her arm and shook her. Maks hissed and swiped at the man with his paw, missing only because Serafina jerked him back out of reach.
“I didn’t ask you a question yet!” the scarred man shouted in her face.
“Yes, you did,” said the shorter man. “You asked her if she was Baba Yaga.”
“That doesn’t count. It wasn’t the question I came here to ask.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Serafina said as she tried to pull away. “Whatever you ask first is the only question I’ll be able to answer.”
“Really?” said the leader. “I bet you’ll tell me with a little persuasion.”
Serafina gasped when the man twisted her arm behind her, and pain shot through her shoulder. Maks wiggled in her other arm and she loosened her grip. With a loud yowl, the cat launched himself at the man’s face, swiping with his front claws before dropping to the floor.
“Run, Maks!” Serafina shouted as the man let go of her to clap his hands to the long scratches striping both sides of his face. Blood dripped from his cheeks as he tried to grab the cat, who fled out the door.
“I’ll kill you and your blasted cat!” the man snarled, pulling a long-bladed knife from its sheath.
He was coming at her with his dagger ready when two of his men stepped between them, blocking his way. “Don’t kill her!” said one. “We get questions, too! You kill her and we won’t be able to ask them!”
The man glared at his companions as if deciding whether he should kill them as well. Looking frantically around, Serafina was trying to come up with a way to break free when the man shoved his dagger in its sheath. “Ask your questions; then one of you can take care of her,” he said, and stomped out the door.
Serafina didn’t think that her chances looked very good. There were still four men in the cottage, and she’d already answered a question for the shorter man with the burned face. That meant she would answer three questions, and then they would kill her. She could tell the house to go, but the men would still be in the cottage, unless …
The men were arguing with one another, vying to be the first to ask her a question, when she made her way to the bed and sat down. She wished she could warn the cat, but he was outside, probably hiding from the angry man. Two of the thieves were standing by the door when Serafina said in a loud voice, “Chicken hut, chicken hut, take me away from here, and be rough!”
The house stood so quickly that Serafina’s stomach felt as if it had plummeted to the ground. She grabbed hold of the bed frame as the cottage tilted from side to side. The two men by the door fell out, screaming, while the other two tumbled to the floor and slid from one side of the room to the other. One man reached for the table leg and had almost gotten a grip on it when the cottage lurched to the other side. He slid across the floor, scrabbling at the floorboards, ev
en as a violent wind carried the skulls through the doorway. They snapped at the man on their way past, and he covered his head with his arms. Unable to stop himself, he flew out the opening, screaming. The man with the burned face was the last thief in the cottage. Despite the floor angling under him, he was able to get to his feet for a moment before the bones clattered through the doorway, hitting him like clubs and shoving him toward the threshold. He fell, thrashing his arms and legs, while the wind flung the yowling cat past him into the cottage.
When the door slammed shut behind the last man, Serafina sat up on the bed. “More gently now, please, house,” she called out, and the cottage settled down to its usual amble.
“Clever girl,” said Maks, rubbing against her side. He started purring when she scratched him behind the ears.
“I wish I’d thought of it sooner,” Serafina told him. “Those were terrible men! And just look at this mess!”
A cup had broken and the pitcher holding fresh wild-flowers lay in shards on the floor. What she found most distressing, however, was that the clay jar that held the blue rose tea was gone. She searched the cottage and eventually found the jar under the bed, but it was empty and the cork was missing.
“Maybe there’s more in the cupboard,” she muttered to herself as she picked up the empty jar. Though she examined every container on every shelf, she couldn’t find any more blue rose tea.
“Do you know where the other Baba Yagas got their tea?” she asked the cat. “Could it have been from the fairy Summer Rose? She said that she was the one who told the first Baba Yaga about it.”
“I think it was her,” he said, yawning. “There used to be a lot of the tea, but that jar held all that was left.”
“Oh no!” Serafina said, collapsing onto a chair. “Now I have to find her before I can see Alek! But she said that she was going away. Do you know how to reach her?”
Maks glared at a smudge on his paw as if it had offended him. “I have no idea. No fairy has ever told me her personal business.”
“Would the cottage know if I told it to go to her?”
The cat gave his paw a swipe with his tongue before saying, “Hardly! It’s lucky it remembers the places it’s already been.”
“Then I guess I’m going to have to find the roses myself. Maybe they sell them in the market.”
“Stranger things have happened,” said the cat. “Although it’s very unlikely,” he added under his breath.
Chapter 12
Serafina had never told the cottage to change direction once it had started walking, but she thought it was worth trying. It was in midstride when she said, “Chicken hut, chicken hut, go to a town with a market.”
On its next step, the cottage turned just a little but didn’t change its pace. It continued walking throughout the day, settling down soon after sunset. Although Serafina couldn’t see the town, she could smell smoke from the chimneys and knew that one must be close by.
Early the next morning she put on her second-best gown, collected all her coins, and headed into town. Like Kamien Dom, this town held its market in the central square where two of the larger roads intersected. If Serafina had looked her real age now, she might have attracted too much attention, but few people spared a glance at the middle-aged woman in ordinary clothes.
It had been so long since she had been away from her cottage that her trip into town was a real treat. She gawked at the peaked roofs and balconies that made this town so different from where she’d grown up and was startled the first time she heard a banner snap in the wind. As she approached the square, she saw vivid red, yellow, blue, and green banners streaming from balcony railings and poles attached to walls. Banners flowed from stalls in the market and from ropes that crisscrossed the air overhead. Serafina even saw smaller versions of the banners woven into girls’ hair and wrapped around their waists.
Serafina was in such a good mood that she said hello to everyone who looked her way, not caring that most of the people were being friendly because they saw her as a potential customer. The first farmer she approached was selling onions, garlic, cabbages, and beets from the back of his wagon. His round face was ruddy with a sheen of perspiration from the already-warm day.
“Would you happen to know where I could purchase some blue rose tea?” Serafina asked as she looked over his baskets of produce.
The farmer’s friendly smile turned into a smirk. “Do I look like I’m selling tea?”
“No,” Serafina said, wishing she could stop herself, but she was already speaking in her Baba Yaga voice. “You look as if you are trying to sell wilted vegetables you picked three days ago and left in the hot sun. You look tired and bored and ready to go home so you can drink the ale you have hidden in the barrel behind the cowshed on your farm. You also look like you’re going to steal eggs from your neighbor because your own hens have stopped laying.”
“Be quiet!” the red-faced farmer shouted, shooting glances at the older man leaning against the next wagon over.
“What did she say?” the other farmer asked, looking incredulously from Serafina to the first farmer.
Serafina hurried away as the red-faced man denied her allegations. She was making her way through the crowd when she heard a scuffle break out behind her. The crowd thinned as people ran to see who was fighting, leaving Serafina alone in front of a farmer’s wife holding a squawking chicken. “Is there something I can do for you?” the sweet-faced woman asked.
“No, there isn’t. All I want is blue rose tea and you don’t know where I can find it,” Serafina said in her Baba Yaga voice, and was relieved when she didn’t say more.
The woman looked thoughtful as she fastened the lid to a crate. “If anyone here knows where to look for a special tea, it would be old Betha. She’s down at the end just past the man selling pigs,” she said, pointing.
Serafina could see a small pigpen set up near the end of the row, so she thanked the woman and started walking again. When she heard two men talking in low voices, she glanced their way and saw that they were both watching her. She’d never seen the man with the crooked nose before, but the other man looked vaguely familiar. They kept their eyes on her as she walked past; it made her feel uneasy, so she quickened her pace.
Rounding the pen holding squealing piglets, Serafina spotted one last wagon nestled at the base of a brick-and-mortar wall. Bundles of herbs, both fresh and dried, hung from poles above the wagon. A cleared aisle ran down the center with boxes and clay jars crammed together on either side. A little woman who couldn’t have been taller than Serafina’s chin stood on the wagon bed, her hands on her hips as she watched the crowd below her.
“Are you Betha?” Serafina asked.
“That I am,” replied the little woman. “If you’re interested in tea, I have teas that stimulate the appetite, teas that settle the stomach, and teas that aid digestion. I have balm, sage, basil, elderberry flower, catnip, hibiscus, fennel, fenugreek, spicebush, dandelion leaves, rosemary, gentian root, chicory root, angelica, lovage roots, marjoram, savory, peppermint, spearmint, dill—”
“But do you have blue rose tea?” Serafina interrupted.
Betha padded down the aisle to a cluster of small boxes and opened one filled with diced bits of a bright red fruit. “I have rose hip tea. I picked the hips myself last fall, then cut them into pieces and dried them. The tea has a nice tangy flavor.”
Serafina felt a spark of hope. This woman might have what she needed! If only the roses were the right color. “And were the roses blue?” she asked.
The little woman reached under her white cap to scratch her head. “I can’t say I’ve ever seen blue roses. No, my rose hips come from dog roses. The blooms are pale pink, not blue.”
“Oh,” said Serafina. “I need blue rose tea, not pink. Do you know if anyone else might have it?”
The little woman laughed. “If I don’t have it, none of the farmers here will. They get their more unusual teas from me. And before you ask if they sell blue roses, I can
tell you right now that they don’t.”
Serafina was disappointed, but she wasn’t about to give up. She told herself that being unable to find the tea in one market didn’t mean she’d never find it; she’d just have to keep looking.
After thanking Betha, Serafina continued on her circuit of the marketplace. Most of the vendors were selling things they had made, like clay mugs, woven baskets, and leather goods. She was passing a cart where the vendor was selling plates made from a fine, white clay, when the crowd around her shifted, revealing the two men who had been watching her earlier. When she saw that they were still looking in her direction, she began to get nervous. Maybe it was time to go back to the cottage.
Serafina kept an eye on the men and waited until the crowd grew bigger. Slipping behind a large, boisterous family, she started walking. Before she had taken more than a few steps, a hand shot out and grabbed her arm, jerking her to a stop.
“Not so fast!” the man with the crooked nose said, even as he dragged her out of the flow of shoppers. “A friend of ours wants to have a word with you.”
The other man bobbed his head up and down. “He’s offered a reward and we mean to get it.”
“I’m not going anywhere with you!” Serafina told them, trying to shake off the man’s hand. “Help!” she shouted. “Kidnappers!”
A nearby vendor had been talking to a customer, but at the sound of Serafina’s voice, he grabbed a cudgel he had hidden under his table and came lumbering toward them. He was a big man who reminded Serafina of Alek and was half again as big as either of her assailants. “Let go of that woman!” he roared. The moment he raised the cudgel above his head, the man with the crooked nose let go of Serafina and took off, his friend right behind him.
“Thank you so much!” Serafina said. She rubbed her arm where the man had held her and shuddered when she thought of what might have happened if the vendor hadn’t stepped in.
“Glad I could help,” he replied. “No one mistreats a woman when I’m around.”