“The carpet’s name is Pathadwanimithochozkal,” she said. “Got that?”
“No!” exclaimed Anya.
“Really?” asked the Wizard. “Thought you were training to be a sorcerer?”
She repeated the name a dozen times before Anya began to consistently get it right, though Ardent had it correct from the second time. All the royal dogs were very good at learning things by rote.
“Now, you lie down on the carpet at one end, like so,” said the Good Wizard, stretching herself out on the carpet. “Then you say the carpet’s name and ‘Prepare for flight,’ and it will roll you up—”
“Roll me up?” asked Anya. She made a rotating gesture with her finger. “You mean it’ll roll up with us inside? Why?”
“So you don’t fall off when it flies away,” said the Wizard. She got up and stretched. “They fly very, very fast, you know. Did you think you could just sit on it?”
“That’s what they do in the stories,” Anya protested. “There was even a picture in one of my books—”
“Stories,” grumbled the Wizard. “I don’t know how they get started. I mean, it’s simple common sense. There’s nothing to hold on to, and with all that air rushing past … a good carpet will wrap you nice and tight so you can’t even slip out the open ends if it has to do any fancy flying.”
“I see what you meant about being closed in,” said Anya. “And itchy. I guess you can’t see anything either? I mean while you’re flying along?”
“Of course you can’t, because you’re rolled up in a carpet,” said the Wizard. “Anyway. Say the carpet’s name, and ‘Prepare for flight.’ Once you’re rolled up, you say the carpet’s name again, possibly put in some sort of honorific like ‘Oh Great Carpet known as Thingummy’ and where you want to go, being as specific as possible and throwing in a few cautionary additions. For example, ‘Oh Great Carpet known as Whatsit, take us safely and carefully to the top of the hill called Dragon Hill, where the Good Wizard resides.’ Easy, really.”
“I suppose so,” said Anya dubiously as she went over the instructions in her head, hoping that she’d remember. Ardent probably would, but then he was easily distracted. “Oh, thank you for the onions too, but I shan’t need a whole big sack like that.”
“Of course you shan’t!” exclaimed the Wizard, eyeing the sack balefully. “Jeremy, what were you thinking? Empty two-thirds of them out, you can take them back to the kitchen later. Put the sack on the carpet for the princess. Who’s got the handkerchiefs? And the pint bottle?”
The pint bottle appeared from under one of the apprentices’ invisibility cloaks. Anya was pleased to see it was metal and came in a leather case with a strap, so it would be very hard to break.
The Good Wizard took the stack of handkerchiefs from another apprentice and handed them over, adding an extra handkerchief from her sleeve.
“One for you too,” she said, tapping the side of her nose.
“Oh, my cold’s all better,” said Anya. “The hot bath seemed to do the trick.”
“Take it, take it,” urged the Wizard. “They can come in very handy, handkerchiefs. Don’t get it mixed up with the others.”
Anya had been about to do just that, but now she looked at the handkerchief more closely. It was folded over, but there were marks on the inside. Something was drawn there, with writing as well. It took her a moment to recognize it must be a map.
“Put it away! Put it away! Merely a handkerchief,” said the Wizard. “Magical gifts for questers, a few onions, handkerchiefs, least I could do. Now, if I were you, I’d put that newt near your feet so he doesn’t poison you.”
“The poison only comes out when I concentrate, and you have to actually get it in your mouth,” said Shrub with considerable dignity. He thought for a moment, then added, “Or maybe up your nose or ears.”
“You can completely control it?” asked Anya. This was an interesting piece of information.
“It does come out if I get scared,” admitted Shrub. “It’s a kind of sweat, I think.”
“You might get scared flying in the carpet,” said the Wizard. “I usually do.”
She took her watch out of her sleeve, flipped it open, and stared at the strange dial for several seconds. “Come on, you need to be out of my demesne by twelve noon. Rules are rules.”
“Can I come back?” asked Anya suddenly. “I mean, to visit? I’d like to look in your library more, and maybe … maybe talk to your apprentices?”
“Only one visit per quest,” said the Good Wizard. “But if you’re not questing, an informal drop-in is always welcome. Lie down, do! Time is fleeting.”
Anya obediently lay down on the carpet, holding Denholm in his wicker cage. She looked at the frog as she settled down. He’d been uncharacteristically silent the whole time since she’d taken him out of the terrarium. She’d thought that was probably because he liked it inside the huge crystal globe that replicated a moat environment and didn’t want to leave. But now that she looked more closely, Denholm had lost some of the oily sheen on his skin, and there was a hint of gray in the yellow patch on his head.
“I hope you’re not sick,” she said worriedly. It was very inconvenient timing. She had no idea how to treat a sick frog. Besides, it could be some side effect of his transformation.
But Anya had no time to think about this as Ardent lay down alongside her legs, with Smoothie next to him. Shrub disposed himself sideways across the carpet under Anya’s feet.
“Thank you for everything,” said Anya to the Wizard.
“It’s nothing.” The Wizard smiled, looking prettier than ever. “Visitors like you make life interesting.”
“Don’t forget the Bill of Rights and Wrongs,” said Bert. “Remember, we will aid you in your Quest, if you will aid us in ours.”
“And it’s the right thing to do,” Dehlia chimed in.
“I know,” said Anya.
“And do be careful with the witches,” added the Wizard. “My predecessor is a little biased, after his own trouble with that particular witch, you know, but he’s right about their business practices in general. Be very specific with what you’re offering and what you expect to get.”
“If you need to sell another snuffbox or have need of our axes to hew sorcerers’ necks, send word,” said Erzefezonim. “Unlike the Good Wizard, we have been known to interfere directly, and perhaps that time is coming around again.”
“Thank you!” said Anya. This was no small thing. Having the Seven Dwarves by her side would not only be tremendous in itself, it would attract other potential allies.
“Right,” said the Wizard. “Everybody back! These carpets raise a serious whirlwind when they take off.”
“Do you want to say the words, or shall I?” Anya asked Ardent.
“I will,” said Ardent. “Where are we going again?”
Anya thought about that for a moment, looking up at the sky above. It was quite restful just lying on the carpet, though she did feel a little tense about what was going to happen.
“Brokenmouth Hill in the middle of the Blasted Heath, but perhaps we shouldn’t go right there,” said Anya. She was thinking about Merlin’s advice, and the Good Wizard’s. “We should ask the carpet to take us somewhere safe and hidden from view within half a league of Brokenmouth Hill.”
Ardent repeated Anya’s words, very slowly for him, without a stutter.
“Is everyone ready?” the dog asked.
“Ready!”
“Pathadwanimithochozkal, prepare for flight!”
The carpet twitched underneath them. Anya’s hand crept across Ardent’s back, hugging him closer. Smoothie inched herself closer to Ardent. Shrub let out a whimper.
The carpet suddenly rolled up. One second Anya was looking up at the sky, the next she was gasping as she was tumbled over and her nose and face were pressed against soft wool, which tickled her nose. The carpet flexed again, and Anya felt it gripping more tightly. Ardent let out a slightly disturbed whine, and Smoothie was
emitting some very short, high-pitched squeaks of discomfort.
“Ask it to fly,” whispered Anya.
“Oh very nice carpet known as Pathadwanimithochozkal,” said Ardent. “Please take us safely and carefully to a place where we’ll be hidden half a league from Brokenmouth Hill in the Blasted Heath.”
“You forgot to say a safe place,” hissed Anya. “Quick, ask it—”
At that moment, the carpet took off. Rolled into a tube, it slid horizontally along the grass for several yards, then suddenly tilted back to a near-vertical position and rocketed into the sky.
Inside the carpet, everyone screamed. Anya felt herself slip a few inches down towards the lower end of the roll, but the movement was arrested by the carpet gripping everyone more tightly.
Cold air was rushing in through the open top like an arctic gale, already freezing Anya’s ears. She had no idea how fast they were traveling, but given the rush of air, it had to be very fast indeed, far faster than she had ever galloped on a horse.
“Is everyone all right?” she called out, her words muffled by the fierce blast of air and the woolen surface in her face. She could feel Denholm’s wicker cage pressed against her stomach, and Ardent’s warm dogskin, but Smoothie was on the other side of the dog and she couldn’t feel Shrub on her feet with the carpet holding so tightly.
Ardent barked, Smoothie shouted something, but there was no reply from Shrub. Or he simply couldn’t be heard over the roar of the wind rushing through.
“I forgot to ask the Wizard how long this will take!” shouted Anya. Her ears were already freezing. She turned her head sideways and pressed her left ear against the wool, but that just made her other ear and the top of her head feel even colder. She wished she’d thought to pull up the hood of her cloak. Or that the Wizard had mentioned how cold it would be.
“She said c-c-arpets are very, very fast!” Ardent shouted back.
There was no way of knowing how quickly they were traveling, apart from the howling wind that came in through the opening above Anya’s head. Soon, even though she moved her head regularly to protect one side or the other, both Anya’s ears felt completely frozen, and she was sure there were ice crystals in her hair. Even with her new clothes and cloak, the rest of her was very cold as well.
“I c-c-an’t take much more of this!” she shouted after a while to Ardent. “It’s t-too cold.”
Ardent barked something back, but Anya couldn’t hear him properly.
Then, just as Anya thought she might pass out from cold, the carpet suddenly tilted over and down. Anya felt the blood rush into her head, and cried out as a sudden pain ran from both ears to the middle of her forehead. She slid forward a little as well, and realized from the pressure behind her ears and eyes they were now plunging almost straight down to the ground.
This plummeting descent lasted long enough for everyone to get out a really good scream, before the carpet suddenly leveled out again and the gale that had been blowing through it eased. A few seconds later there was a jarring thud as they landed. The carpet slid along for several yards, spinning around as it did so, before finally coming to a stop. There was a horrible delay that seemed to go on for way too long, then it slowly unrolled, leaving Anya and her companions gasping and shivering face-down on the woolen surface that no longer seemed so soft, or woven in such a nice pattern.
Ardent was the first to get up. He sprang to his feet, shook himself wildly, and looked around, sniffing the air. The carpet had landed them in a grassy alley between two orderly rows of rather short, broad trees with purple flowers and fruits, with many more rows of trees stretching up a slight slope ahead.
It was an orchard of plums, shortly to be harvested from the look of the heavy fruit on the trees. In the distance, the bulk of a bigger hill loomed large.
Anya sat up very slowly, still shivering from cold. The sun was shining above them, and she could feel its warmth beginning to come through. But there was ice in her hair, and her ears felt like icicles. Rubbing her ears vigorously, she quickly checked that Denholm was still in his wicker cage and everyone else was all right. She could see Smoothie licking her hand-paws and then running them over her head, so she seemed fine.
But Shrub was still draped over Anya’s feet, and he wasn’t moving.
“Shrub!”
Wrapping her hands in her cloak, Anya lifted Shrub’s head. His eyes were closed, and she couldn’t tell whether he was breathing or not.
“C-c-cold,” said Ardent, sniffing the newt. “Like a lizard, needs warmth.”
“Is … is he dead?” asked Anya.
Ardent looked surprised.
“No! I would have said. You know the lizards by the old garden wall. They sleep through the winter in their holes when the ice starts on the moat. He’ll wake up when he’s warmer.”
“Good,” said Anya with considerable relief. She stood up and looked around properly. The orchard was quiet; no one was about. There were standing stones on the hill, which looked to be less than half a league away. A thin trickle of smoke was coming up from the middle, indicating the witches’ fire, or so Anya presumed.
“No water nearby,” Smoothie noted regretfully. She sniffed the air several times. “Not even a pond.”
“I’m sure you’ll be able to have a swim somewhere on our Quest,” said Anya.
She took out the handkerchief the Good Wizard had given her and unfolded it to inspect the map. It had been drawn in a bit of hurry; there were ink splotches here and there, but it showed Trallonia, Trallon Forest, The Demesne of the Good Wizard, Rolanstown, Brokenmouth Hill, and New Yarrow, with the distances between each indicated by straight as-a-carpet-might-fly lines and a numeral for the number of leagues. Anya was surprised to see it was only nine leagues from Trallonia to Dragon Hill. It had felt much, much farther.
It was also interesting to see that New Yarrow was closer than she’d thought. Twelve leagues from the witches’ meeting place. They could fly close to it, if she could steel herself to being wrapped in the carpet again.
She picked up the sack of onions and put it over her shoulder. Even with two-thirds of it emptied out, it was still heavy.
“I’m going to find the witches and trade with them,” she said. “I think you should all stay here.”
“What?” barked Ardent indignantly. “I go with you, Princess.”
Anya shook her head.
“I need you to stay here with the carpet,” she said. “And Smoothie and Shrub. I was going to leave him behind anyway, and Denholm.”
“Why?”
“Eye of newt and toe of frog,” said Anya.
Ardent put his head to one side, puzzled.
“It’s in a song or a story about witches,” said Anya. “I can’t remember it that well, but I do know they like newts’ eyes and frogs’ toes.”
“Not much meat on a frog’s toe,” observed Ardent dubiously. “Why would they eat just the toe and not the leg, like they do in the village?”
“I don’t know if they eat them … it doesn’t matter. We have to be careful with the witches, so it’s best if you’re hidden and can come and rescue me if necessary.”
“Oh,” said Ardent, his puzzlement replaced with satisfaction at being given an important job to do. “When do we c-c-come and rescue you?”
“If I’m not back by nightfall, come and take a very careful look,” said Anya. “But I don’t expect to need rescuing. I’m not that kind of princess.”
“What kind of princess are you?” asked Smoothie. She was arranging herself on the carpet to get the best possible spot where the most sun managed to get through between the trees.
“Not the kind that needs rescuing,” said Anya firmly. She looked around the orchard again. There was a chance that a farmer might come along, but she doubted it. They’d be picking soon, but that would already have begun if they were going to do it today. “Be careful. Try to stay hidden.”
“We will,” said Ardent. Smoothie nodded and rolled over, lifting her arms
and legs to wriggle around so that a dinner plate–size patch of sun was firmly in place on her sleek, furry stomach.
Anya made sure she had the handkerchiefs stuffed securely down her jerkin front, picked up the pint bottle, and resettled the onion sack on her shoulder.
“Remember, don’t come looking for me until nightfall,” she said, and set off towards the hill and the witches, pulling the hood of her cloak up as she went. “And feed Denholm some bugs!”
The scene on the hilltop was very much as Anya had seen in the pool of the Wizard’s Magic Mirror. Only it being a day later, the culinary preparations were much further advanced. A very large pig was roasting on a spit above a fire pit; there was another table set up near it on which rested two small barrels of beer marked Mild and Brown, numerous bottles of wine, and an eclectic mixture of glasses, cups, steins, and goblets, made from glass of all colors and thicknesses, silver, pewter, and even wood.
Several steel mirrors had been set up on the standing stones, and six of the witches—mostly the younger ones—were preparing themselves, jostling for room to look at their reflections as they carefully glued on hairy warts, carbuncles, and bat-shaped moles, or settled snake-wigs over their own hair.
The other seven were under the canvas roof of the kitchen, taking time out of various preparations to engage in a dispute about who was supposed to have brought the onions.
“Onions aren’t greens, Shushu,” said one. “I was in charge of greens.”
“Oh, everyone knows you do onions with greens,” said the witch who was presumably Shushu. “And potatoes, and turnips, and pumpkin.”
“We never use pumpkin in summer,” said another witch.
“Yes, but if we did, whoever was on greens would have to bring it,” said Shushu. “Now, what are we going to do without onions?”
“I got some scallions,” said another witch.
“Scallions!” retorted several of the witches. Shushu, who seemed to be in charge of the cooking at least, laughed derisively and then confusingly said, “Don’t make me laugh.”