"Why did you do that?"
"Because I might be wrong."
I almost apologized, but I didn't regret it. Neither did Wyst, I thought. Though the mark on his forehead dimmed momentarily, his chastity remained intact. The kiss hadn't damaged his virtue. White Knights lived by a strict code, but even his enchantment couldn't fault him for a kiss he hadn't asked for.
I led my companions forward, and we stood before our effigies. We drew close, but we didn't touch. The first contact between us would free our doubles to move on their own and begin a battle we couldn't win.
Newt lowered his head and eyed his double. "How are we going to test this theory of yours?"
My reply was a swift, hard kick to his rear. The effigies duplicated the maneuver among themselves. Newt popped into the air and landed on his back. His effigy exploded in a puff of feathers.
Newt, the true Newt, remained whole, though with bruises to his bottom and ego.
It had worked. The effigies were intentionally fragile phantoms, but they could only be killed by the hands of their originals. Yet they could be undone by turning the sorcery that had created them against itself. The pile of feathers around an agape bill was proof of that.
"Are you mad?" Newt growled. "What if you'd been wrong? You could've killed me."
"You are my familiar. It's your duty to die for me."
"That's true, but it's supposed to be a bloody, violent death. Not demise by booting."
"That's not your choice to make."
"I'd prefer it."
"I'll see what I can do."
Their weakness exposed, the effigies were simple to undo. The could only mimic whatever actions we performed, and they expired easily. The only curiosity was that each passed in its unique fashion.
Penelope smacked Gwurm between the eyes barely hard enough to be felt. The troll's effigy's head caved in like a hollow rind and its entire body shriveled into a wrinkled skin. Wyst nicked his horse along the shoulder. The effigy dissolved into a watery gray puddle with bits of fur floating atop. I bent Penelope with light force. My double snapped her broom and shattered the effigy into crystalline shards.
The last two, Wyst and mine, were to destroy themselves together. Wyst put his sword to my belly in preparation.
I turned to my effigy. "I'm sorry."
"Don't be. This is what I was made for, and though my existence was brief, at least I knew its purpose."
Wyst drove his blade through my abdomen at the same moment I struck a hard slap across his cheek. His duplicate's head popped off. The decapitated body fell over, leaking a putrid white puss from the neck, and with a wide, unwitchly grin, my effigy dissolved into nothing.
"I still don't understand how that was different from killing them," said Newt.
"You don't need to understand. Would you mind, Wyst?"
He pulled his sword from my stomach. A foot higher and an inch to the right, he would've pierced my heart. But the hole in my belly, even delivered by the man I loved, was a minor ache to my undead flesh.
Wyst wiggled his jaw. He'd known my slap was coming, and I suppose that made it honorable. Honorable enough to leave a small discoloration on his cheek.
"You're bleeding," he said.
"It's nothing." The wound would close on its own, but I could see it distressed him. I pressed my hand to the hole and seared it shut. It made him feel better, and I enjoyed the stench of burning flesh.
His enchanted sword repelled tarnishes, but a few smudges of dark syrup were left behind. "Allow me." I wiped the blade with the loose hem of my skirt. The garment was already covered with mysterious stains, but I was always looking to freshen them. It gave me an excuse to get close to Wyst again. He didn't move away.
"I hope I didn't strike you too hard."
He rubbed the bruise and smiled. It was an open, honest smile. The first real grin I'd seen upon his face. I turned from his eyes and glanced at the blade. It was clean, and I polished the gleaming steel.
"Thank you." He returned the weapon to its sheath.
I caressed his bruise with the back of my fingers. Then he leaned in and graced my cheek with a soft kiss. I hadn't expected it, but I was witch enough to hide my surprise.
"What was that for?"
"For being right."
He squeezed my hand, and for a moment, we weren't a witch and a knight. The obstacles between us, my curse, his chastity, were almost forgotten.
"My good Knight, perhaps you are not so mad after all." Our destroyed effigies were gone, replaced by a red cloud cast in Soulless Gustav's shape.
Wyst let go of my hand and drew his sword.
"Oh, let's not bother with all that again," said Soulless Gustav
Wyst of the West slashed the cloud without effect. He didn't seem surprised, but he was too much a White Knight not to try. He put away his sword and stepped aside.
Soulless Gustav billowed toward me. "That was very good. Defeating my effigies and corrupting a White Knight. You are a credit to witches everywhere."
"I can't take all the credit. I was taug,ht well."
"I see now that I'll have to deal with you myself." He waved. The grass parted. "Follow this path, and you'll find a cottage where you can spend the night. Enjoy it with my compliments. For tomorrow, I'll put an end to your troublesome, accursed life."
"Thank you for your hospitality."
"Mortal enemies need not be impolite. Civility is what separates us from the animals." He shot into the sky and away.
"I'm offended by that remark," Newt said.
"You aren't really an animal," commented Gwurm.
"I'm animal enough."
"Maybe, but you aren't all that civil either."
Newt almost said something rude but reconsidered. I wondered how long his new manners might last.
"No one asked you anyway, you big, loathsome oaf."
Longer than I'd expected.
S
oulless Sustav's cottage was
more of a two-story wooden palace, simple in design but impressive nonetheless. It was early evening by the time we reached it. This was mostly a guess. I have trouble measuring time in the real world, much less a place where night and day came at a sorcerer's whim. Soft light shone from the cabin's windows. The large, crescent-shaped pane over the door sparkled in a rainbow of colors.
"I vote we keep going," said Newt. "Why give the sorcerer more time to prepare?"
I laughed, and realized how much more I was doing that. There wasn't anything wrong with it. A laugh can be very witchly when soft and throaty. "This quest will not be decided by a few passing hours, and I doubt Soulless Gustav is preparing anything."
"What if this is a trick?"
"It isn't."
This didn't comfort his suspicious mind. "How do you know it's not a trick?"
I could've explained to him that my vision told me everything I needed to know. Four trials made our quest. The chimera had been trial by combat. My ghosts of destiny had been trial by strength of self. Trial by peril had been found in our effigies. Trial by magic was the only one remaining, and this could be nothing but the final duel between Soulless Gustav and myself. I could've told Newt this. But I didn't.
The cottage door opened when we drew near. A scar-faced man stepped onto the porch. I recognized him as one of the men that had killed Ghastly Edna or, more accurately, an illusion cast in the exact same form. This one was clean and unarmed. It made it all the easier for Newt to cut off the man's head with a single swipe of razor sharp wings. The corpse fell over and sizzled away.
A fresh servant, same as the last, stepped into the doorway. Newt moved to kill this one too, but I stopped him with a clearing of my throat.
"I'm at your service." The phantom spoke with perfect enunciation. Too perfect. The words sounded as if chopped from other sentences and pasted together. "A warm meal awaits you all in the dining room." He stepped out of the doorway to allow us to enter. "And there is an excellent stable just around the corner, good master Knight. Shall I take your horse?"
Wyst refused to hand over the reins.
"Very good, sir. Allow me to escort you so that you might inspect its quality."
He looked to me for approval. Unlike Newt, Wyst trusted my judgment. It was a great honor. A White Knight's loyal steed was his most valued possession, next to his virtue.
I smiled and nodded.
He nodded back and patted his horse's neck. "I'll find it myself." He disappeared around the corner.
"I'm telling you," said Newt, "the second we step inside, it's going to become a giant serpent head and swallow us all."
"I was thinking something subtler," said Gwurm. "Like perhaps it would shrink until we were all smashed to a pulp."
"So you agree then."
"I might if I weren't so hungry." He was the first to walk through the doorway. "Is that roast boar I smell?"
"Fresh off the spit, sir," intoned the servant. "I do hope you like it tender. The meat is practically falling off the bone."
I followed, catching the scent of a tantalizing variety of raw flesh. "Coming, Newt? Or would you rather stay outside with Penelope?"
My broom had immediately taken it upon herself to scour the porch of every offensive speck and mote, no doubt left there for her by Soulless Gustav's considerate sorcery. Even for a cleaning implement, she could be terribly obsessive when it came to dust. She swept by Newt and hopped at him to get out of her way.
"I still say this is a trap," grumbled the duck as he followed me inside.
The cabin was well lit by dozens of lamps, but not too bright even for my undead eyes. I'd never seen such exquisite tapestries and rugs. Then again, I'd never seen tapestries and rugs, save for the worn, utilitarian carpets of Fort Stalwart. I had an eye for stitching, and their quality was obvious. Had they been real and made by mortal hands, they would've taken years to craft. The one with an embroidered image of Soulless Gustav, standing tall and smugly grinning, was especially impressive. It was so vivid, it could be mistaken for the genuine article. Its eyes even seemed to follow us. It added a touch of dread to the cozy atmosphere. I admired the sorcerer's sense of style.
A banquet was set before us on a long table by the hearth. It was a wide table, but there wasn't an empty space. Soulless Gustav knew his guests. It was mostly meat, mostly raw or blood rare. A small bowl of fruit was present for appearance, and a loaf of fresh bread waited for Wyst. The food was all genuine, not illusion. A most thoughtfol importance as a phantom feast would sate our hunger without nourishment. Where Soulless Gustav found reality in this phantom realm was a mystery I didn't give much thought.
Gwurm and Newt warmed themselves by the hearth. I kept away from it and enjoyed the remaining chill of evening.
The servant gestured to a staircase. "You'll find your sleeping accommodations upstairs. I'm certain they'll be to your liking, but should you need anything, please clap for me. Now unless you'll be needing me for anything ..."
"No. We're fine." I noticed the tremendous crystal chandelier over our heads. It caught every beam of candlelight and reflected it in a cascade of colors.
The servant dismissed himself as Wyst returned from the stable. He seated himself beside the bread, folded his arms, and studied the loaf.
Gwurm prodded the roast boar with his fingers, which he then licked. Newt eyed the troll.
"Well? It's poisonous, isn't it? It has to be poisonous."
Gwurm took a rib and sucked the meat off it. He rolled the flesh from cheek to cheek, poking it with his tongue while chewing. He shrugged, swallowed, and gobbled down the bone. "Seems fine." He sat and tore off the boar's snout. "Excellent, just the proper chewiness."
Newt turned his back to the table. "I'm not eating any of it. If it's not poisoned, it's something worse. Your guts will probably rot away now."
"Some things are worth the risk." Gwurm swallowed a juicy red apple and an uncooked rabbit in one bite. He must've liked the two together because he tried an orange and hen combination next. It met with a satisfied grin.
"You're going to regret eating that," muttered Newt.
"Probably," said Gwurm. "Boar gives me heartburn. Pass some of that goose over, would you, please?"
Newt perked up. "Did you say goose?" He hopped onto the table and licked his bill over the succulent bird.
"You eat goose?" Gwurm stuck out his tongue.
"It's my second favorite."
"But you're a duck."
Newt closed his eyes and inhaled the goose's tempting aroma. "A carnivorous duck."
"Yes, but, well, it just doesn't seem right."
"Birds eat birds every day."
"Big birds eat little birds," said Gwurm. "That goose is twice your size."
"And perfectly seared." Newt smacked his bill. Demons are suspicious by nature but they're also easily tempted. He stood poised over the goose indecisively.
I did him a favor and helped him make up his mind. It was an inevitable decision anyway.
"Is that duck I smell?" I asked.
"Duck? Where?" He found his prey, a raw bird on a platter, and attacked. He tore off a wing and gulped it down.
Gwurm grimaced. "Now that is definitely just wrong."
Newt was far too busy tearing into his meal to bother with a curt response.
I took the bread and cut a thick slice that I offered to Wyst. He accepted it with a smile and passed a plate of raw turkey strips. We ate in silence, save for the crackle of the fire and the tearing and crunching of duck frenetically feasting upon duck.
"I'll say this for Soulless Gustav." Newt belched. "He knows how to treat a guest."
"He's mad," I said, "not rude."
Wyst excused himself. "I want to be rested for tomorrow"
I didn't contradict him, but he wouldn't be facing Soulless Gustav. Not if I had any say in the matter. After he'd climbed the stairs, I clapped once.
"Yes, mistress?" The servant was just there suddenly. Not materializing from nothing. More like he'd always been there, just unnoticed.
"I'll need a bath drawn. And a change of clothes."
I paused, expecting Newt to say something discouraging. He was too contented to bother with even a displeased glare.
My bath waited in a room on the first floor. Like the servant, the room seemed to have not been there before and yet perfectly in place. The long tub was filled with ice-cold water, just as I liked my baths. I stripped naked before the phantom and slid into the water. The servant pointed out the variety of soaps and perfumes and a wardrobe that should possess whatever clothes I needed. Then he was gone again, back to his unnoticed oblivion.
I didn't bathe often. I didn't really need to. My accursed nature did enough to keep me beautiful, but I enjoyed a nice, chilly bath every so often. It'd been too long since I'd had one. Not since I'd dipped myself in the lake the day Ghastly Edna had died.
The recollection made me smile. I missed Ghastly Edna, but she'd sent me to that lake with a purpose. I now knew that purpose. She'd known Wyst of the West would spy me, and that this would be laying the seeds of desire in his heart. Tonight would be her last gift to me.
I enjoyed my bath for an hour. I waited for the water to wrinkle my fingers. It didn't. It never did. I pulled myself from the tub and picked through the perfumed oils. They were all quite lovely, but none could match my own natural scent, a subtle mix of flowers and strawberries along with a new aroma: fresh bread. No doubt added by the magic because Wyst would like it.
I studied my form in a full-length mirror. I hadn't looked at myself, really looked, for a long time. I'd forgotten just how beautiful I was. My flawless, smooth skin was without a freckle. My figure was lean, yet blessed with the soft curves men wanted. My eyes sparkled. I was perfect, and even if a man's desires leaned toward blondes or short women, my curse made up for that.
I found exactly what I wanted in the wardrobe. The silky gown couldn't be more unwitchly. It was soft and sheer and hid little. I slipped it on and smiled, despite myself. Even if I couldn't be a mortal woman, it was nice to indulge in those pleasures I normally denied myself.
I wasn't quite ready to go upstairs yet. I crept outside. Both Newt and Gwurm sat by the fire and didn't notice. Penelope waited on the immaculate porch. She tilted to one side, then the other. Then floated a circle around me. She gave her approval with a hop and a twirl.
"Thank you."
"So are you going to mate with him or eat him?"
The gray fox sat at the bottom of the steps.
"I'm surprised you followed us into this false land," I said.
"I'd come too far to turn back now. Not when things were getting interesting." She grinned. "I only regret that as a simple fox, I can't appreciate it all."
I looked to the moon and pondered whether it was genuine or merely a reproduction.
"You didn't answer my question," said the fox.
"How do you know I want to do either?"
The fox laughed. "I may only be a beast, but if there are two things we beasts know, it's eating and mating. I've watched the way you look at that man. Sometimes, it's with the desire of a female for a male. Sometimes, it's with the gnawing of an empty stomach. Sometimes, it's both."
"I didn't think it was that obvious."
"Everything is obvious when you look for it. So is it mating season for witches? I think he'd father excellent offspring."
As did I. "I can't bear children."
"Neither can I," she said. "But when the season rolls around, I seek out a mate anyway. Even if I haven't birthed a litter in three seasons."
"Too bad," I said. "The world could use more clever foxes."
"The world could use a great many things."
I descended the short stairs and sat beside the fox. "I don't know what I'm going to do. I think I might do both."
She nibbled at an itch in her tail. "I've never been one to play with my food. Although I do enjoy batting around the occasional field mouse."
I stroked her between the ears. "I don't want to kill him."
"I suppose if you just bit off a few less necessary parts, but that would be more of a snack than a meal."
My stomach whimpered.
"Can I offer some advice?" said the fox. "I've never had anything I wanted to both eat and mate, but the logical thing to do would be to mate first, then eat. That way you get both pleasures."
"I don't want to eat him."
"Ah, I know the feeling. I once stole an egg that I didn't want to crack because once I ate it, it would be gone. But I knew I couldn't be happy just looking at it." She settled her head on my lap. "That's the question you should ask yourself. Can you be happy just having him?"
"I don't know, but I think it's time to find out."
I invited the fox in for a bite to eat, and she accepted. I introduced her to Newt and Gwurm. Newt was more interested in my unwitchly raiment.
"What are you wearing? You can see . . . all your . . . naughty bits."
Penelope threw herself between Newt and me. I didn't need her defense and gently nudged her aside.
I grabbed a sharp knife from the table. "I'm going upstairs. Behave yourselves." I used the plural, but I looked at Newt.
"Good luck," said Newt.
"Remember," added the fox, "mate first. Eat second."
"Rip out his throat," grumbled Newt.
Penelope followed me upstairs. Each footfall seemed heavier than the last. I didn't understand exactly what trepidation gripped me, but as I neared Wyst's room, it grew Ghastly Edna had taught me not to fear failure or horrible death, but she'd never prepared me for this. She'd once said, "It's easy to defeat life-or-death ordeals. Such tribulations demand success. It's the small tests that require something more from us. When we can turn and walk away is when we find what we're made of."
I stopped at Wyst's door. I reached for the knob but stopped short. I considered turning back. So long as I didn't open that door, I could always live with not knowing.