A Question of Magic (6 page)

The old woman seemed satisfied with the answer, but Serafina must have looked distressed because her visitor leaned forward to pat her hand, saying, “Don't fret about me, my dear. Your answer was so much better than I expected. I was worried that I'd have to endure a long illness and upset my family with my suffering. Now I know that I should get my affairs in order and I don't have to worry that I will die in pain. Thank you, my dear. You've helped me more than you can know.” There were tears in the old woman's eyes when she shuffled from the cottage, but Serafina noticed that a gentle smile curved her lips.

When Serafina stood to close the door, her dress felt uncomfortably tight again and her hem was inches above her ankles. “I need a mirror,” she murmured, and let her gaze travel around the room.

In the far corner just past the bed stood a cupboard
so old that the wood was almost black. When Serafina opened the door, she was surprised to find that the cupboard was stocked with food and other essentials. One shelf held cups, plates, some old worn pots, and a handful of silverware. Another held a small sack of sugar, a larger sack of flour, a crust of stale bread, and a bag of potatoes that smelled as if they'd just been dug out of the earth. There were other food items on the next shelf, but it was a glimmer of light reflecting off something shiny that caught her eye. It was a small mirror, half-wrapped in a soft cloth. When she picked it up, she expected the mirror to be as old and serviceable as everything else in the cottage. Instead the frame was gold encrusted with finely wrought flowers made from amethysts and sapphires.

Normally Serafina might have enjoyed examining the craftsmanship of the frame, but the moment she caught sight of her reflection she couldn't look at anything else. She'd had the face and body of a girl when she came to get her inheritance, but now her cheeks were thinner and her hair was more lustrous. Glancing down, she saw that her body was as curvy and well-rounded as her older sisters'.

Serafina's heart pounded in her chest and she began to breathe too fast. Although she looked older, her mind
was still the same as it had been before. What was happening to her?

Serafina was fighting off increasing panic when another voice called “Hello!” from outside the gate.

Serafina missed Alek and her family fiercely and thought about them often. It had been more than two weeks since she'd seen them, and although she had started writing to her parents and sisters more than once to tell them that she was alive and well, she never got beyond the first few sentences. She wanted to tell them that she'd be home soon, but she had no idea how long she'd be gone. And how could she tell them about what had happened to her, when a fairy's magic had caused it and they didn't believe in either fairies or magic? She couldn't even tell them about her day-today life when that was so beyond anything they could understand.

She had also tried writing to Alek. He was more
likely to believe what had happened to her, and there was so much she wanted to tell him. The problem was that she was sure he would want to rescue her, but how could he rescue her from a curse that would follow her everywhere? Although she yearned to see him, she didn't want to entangle him in the mess that her life had become. Serafina had thrown out every letter to him that she'd started.

Fortunately for her, she was beginning to get used to her unusual life. She no longer hurried to look in the mirror after she answered each question, as she had for the first two weeks. There was no point; she knew that she looked like a mature woman now and she didn't want to see herself age. It helped that she had stopped growing after a few days and no longer had to look for new clothes in the trunk. It also helped that she knew what to expect. People came to her throughout the day, asking her questions about themselves or the ones they loved. Others came to her at night, stealing through the dark so that neither friends nor family would know of their visit. All of them brought her gifts to pay for her answers. Her larder was well stocked now, and on the rare occasion she thought of something she needed, all she had to do was mention it to one visitor and another would bring it.

After her first visitors, Serafina had decided on some
rules. She would invite guests into her cottage if they were polite. Only one person was allowed to come in at a time. She would set aside the normal rules of hospitality and offer her guests a drink or something to eat only if she wanted to. Both she and the guest would sit down before she asked for their question. And finally, she would not discuss one guest with another.

Even when Serafina didn't have visitors, her days were full. She took the responsibility of caring for the cat and house seriously, feeding the cat before she ate her own meals, cleaning the woodstove, restocking the basket beside it with logs, sweeping and dusting the cottage, and oiling the gate when it squeaked. Part of her hoped that by doing her best to fulfill her duties as Baba Yaga, she might be able to go home sooner. Another part of her enjoyed the responsibility of having her own home and making her own decisions. She might have been lonely if it weren't for the company of the cat and the skulls. Although the cat remained aloof at times, the skulls grew friendlier the longer she was there.

One morning Serafina was collecting berries from a thicket near the cottage when she felt as if someone was watching her. She turned around but didn't see anyone. Then suddenly there was a flash of brilliant blue, a whisper of pale pink, and a flicker of lilac. Serafina blinked,
and when she opened her eyes, she was surrounded by a group of curious fairies. Not wanting to startle them, she held her breath as they drew close enough to touch. They hovered, just inches away, examining her as if she were a new species of flower. A hint of a breeze rustled the leaves, a tree branch creaked, and the fairies flew off in a whirl of color.

“I wonder if I passed the inspection,” Serafina murmured as she returned to the berry patch.

Later that same day she was setting a jug of cider on a shelf when she decided that it was time to take a look at a few items in the cupboard a little more closely. Although she'd already searched through the cupboard more than once, she hadn't examined every single jar and bottle. There was one in particular that was worrying her. It was a black jar with a white skull painted on it. Lettering that was almost too small to read ran across the bottom. “What is this?” she asked, holding up the jar so Maks could see it. “Is it poison?”

The cat stopped licking his side long enough to glance her way. “I haven't seen that jar in years. That's skull polish. It cleans the skulls and makes them show up better in the dark.”

Serafina squinted at the lettering. “‘For best results, use once a month.'” She pried open the waxy lid and peered inside. “It's almost full.”

“The skulls don't like being polished. A couple of the Baba Yagas tried to use it, but never more than once.”

Serafina shook her head. “Like it or not, if those skulls are supposed to get polished, I'm going to do it. These should work,” she said, taking some rags from the cupboard. “Do I have to leave the polish on for a minute or two, or should I wipe it off right away?”

“I don't know,” said Maks. “That's never been an issue.”

The cat followed Serafina out the door, lying down in a patch of sunlight to watch her. “Good luck!” he called as she approached Boris.

“What does he mean by that?” the skull asked Serafina. “Are you going somewhere?”

“Just to see you. I have a treat for you today. I'm going to polish you until you gleam.” Tucking the jar lid in her pocket, she used a rag to scoop out a dab of polish and reached toward Boris.

“You're not getting that glop on me!” the skull declared. Rocking from side to side on his post, he turned his face away.

“That's fine. I'll start with the back of your head,”
Serafina said, and slapped him with the rag. “Then you don't have to see it.”

“No!” cried Boris. “Don't touch me!”

“I already have,” she said, rubbing the polish on his smooth surface.

“Ha-ha! Boris's getting polished!” chortled Yure.

“Be quiet, you brainless bonehead!” Boris shouted.

Serafina put another dollop of polish on Boris. “Don't worry,” she told him. “I'll polish Yure next.”

“Nooo!” Yure wailed. “Not me!”

“This is horrible!” Boris cried. “This is torture!”

“Oh, my. Look at that!” Serafina said, wiping off some of the polish.

“What is it? Is something wrong?” asked Boris.

“Nothing's wrong,” Serafina told him. “It's just that you were looking a little dingy, but now, well … I've never seen such a brilliant white before. You really look quite handsome, Boris.”

“This is an outrage!” declared Boris. “I told you I didn't … Did you say
brilliant?”

“It almost hurts my eyes to look at you,” said Serafina. “I can only imagine what you'll look like in the dark. Of course, you'd look even better if I could polish your front, too.”

“Well,” said Boris, “since you've started, you might
as well finish. Just be careful around my eye sockets. They're my best feature.”

“He's letting you do it?” said Krany. His mouth opened so wide in disbelief that his bottom jaw dropped off. “Unh!” he groaned, tilting himself so he could see where his jawbone had landed in the grass.

Glancing at the incredulous skull, Serafina said, “I'll pick that up as soon as I finish with Boris.”

“I knew something bad would happen if you polished us,” cried Yure. “My grandfather always said, ‘Never let a woman with a polishing cloth come near your naked skull.' ”

“He did not say that,” said Boris, angling himself so Serafina could get all the right spots. “He wouldn't have said anything like that unless he was bald, and you told me that all the men in your family had lots of hair.”

“Well, he would have said it if he'd thought of it! Look at poor Krany. He must be really suffering.”

Krany nodded and tried to talk. “Hunh hunh hunh hunh.”

“Maybe I should help him now,” said Serafina, stepping back from Boris.

Boris tilted himself to glance at her. “No! Don't stop! You're almost finished. I'm sure Krany's fine. Don't believe a word he says.”

“I don't think he's said any actual words,” Serafina told Boris as she began to apply more polish.

“Brilliant white, huh?” said Boris. “Just think, all those years I didn't want that stuff near me.”

“And you called
me
a fool,” Yure grumbled. “Don't forget,” he told Serafina. “I'm next!”

By the time Serafina finished polishing the skulls, the sun was setting. She went inside to feed Maks and make her supper. When she was cleaning up afterward, she opened the door to let the cat out and overheard the skulls talking.

“She's not half-bad, you know, for a slip of a girl who has no idea what she's doing,” said Krany.

“Are you kidding? She polished Boris! No one's ever done that before!”

“She polished all of us. You should see your face, Yure! It glows in the dark!”

“We all glow in the dark, Krany. Yourself included! I think it's kind of creepy.”

“I like her,” Boris announced. “She's taken to the job better than most, even though she didn't want it. I just hope she's doing as well in a few years.”

“Years?” Serafina murmured, a cold knot forming in her stomach.

The next morning, Serafina sat at the table nursing a cup of cider while thinking about the people she'd met. In the beginning, she had dreaded answering questions, afraid of what she might say. The first time a man asked if his wife was trustworthy, he had stormed off in an awful temper when Serafina told him the truth. Another time a woman asked if she would ever have children and wept when she heard that she would die childless. Serafina soon learned that such moments were offset by the joyful news that she gave out, like the future birth of a much-wanted son to a kind couple or the knowledge that a loved one would overcome an illness and live a long and happy life. It frustrated her when people asked frivolous questions, such as the woman who wanted to know if she was a better cook than her mother-in-law or the man who asked which horse he should bet on in the next holiday's race, but she soon decided that it was their question to waste. Sometimes she wished that she could tell them to change their question, but nothing seemed to affect what they asked or what answers she gave.