Frogkisser!

  Anya nodded. This made perfect sense, and fitted in with the plan that had been forming in her head ever since her bath.

  “The preparations I saw in my vision, the thirteen witches getting ready to cook something tomorrow … I guess today, actually … their kitchen was under canvas spread between standing stones. Do you know where that might be?”

  The Wizard looked at Bert, who still had a very serious expression on her face.

  “Probably Brokenmouth Hill in the middle of the Blasted Heath,” said Bert slowly. “The standing stones look like teeth, hence the name. Witches do use it for their feasts.”

  “Is it far away?” asked Anya. “And is the Blasted Heath very dangerous?”

  “Two, maybe three days on foot for you,” Bert replied. “But the Blasted Heath is safe enough. Lots of little farms and villages, and most of the villages have their own witch.”

  “I thought it would be a barren wasteland,” said Anya. “Inhabited by fell creatures. That’s what it said on my favorite map. There were pictures of all kinds of monsters on it.”

  “That must be a very old map,” said the Wizard. “The Blasted Heath was indeed like that long ago, but has been settled and prosperous for centuries now.”

  “It’s too far, though,” said Anya, her face a little fallen. “I thought I could get my pint of witches’ tears there tonight.”

  “Witches don’t c-c-ry,” said Ardent. “I remember that. C-c-can’t remember why.”

  “It would be more accurate to say witches don’t cry from sorrow,” the Wizard clarified. “Nor do they laugh. At least not in front of outsiders.”

  “Then how do you get witches’ tears?” asked Ardent. “Bite them till they can’t help c-c-crying?”

  “No,” said Anya. “I figured it out from my first vision. The reflecting pool was showing me something useful. The Dog with the Wonderful Nose could smell them growing underground, and the witches are cooks, so they use them. I think they’ve forgotten to get some, so I should be able to do a deal to give them some, in return for their tears.”

  “Give them what?” asked Ardent. “Turnips? Potatoes?”

  “No, onions,” said Anya. “I give them onions, and handkerchiefs to collect the tears they shed when they’re cutting up the onions. Then I wring the handkerchiefs out to collect the tears.”

  “Good idea,” said the Wizard approvingly. “But I suspect they’ll want more than onions in return. Remember, I told you: Witches are usually very business oriented.”

  “But I can’t get there in time anyway,” said Anya. “Their feast is tonight.”

  “Well, we’ll see about that,” said the Wizard. “I might be able to help you there. Depending on which gift you choose.”

  “Thank you,” said Anya. She looked down at herself. “Thank you for these clothes too.”

  “Oh, that’s nothing. Not magical at all. They hardly count as gifts. But tell me, after you get the tears from the witches, which I have no doubt at all you will manage, what next?”

  “We’ll go to New Yarrow,” said Anya. “And steal the rest of the ingredients from the League of Right-Minded Sorcerers!”

  “And the Only Stone!” called out Shrub from under the table.

  “No, just the ingredients,” said Anya. “I’m sure they’ll be less well guarded.”

  “Bold,” said the Wizard, cutting her toast into five individual soldiers. She took another boiled egg and sat it on her eggcup. “But it could work. Ah, here come Danash and Holkern.”

  The two dwarves had come out of the Wizard’s door, carrying a large and clearly heavy chest. They brought it over and laid it down between the Wizard and Anya.

  “Let’s make sure this is the right one,” said the Wizard, bending down to lift up a cardboard label that was tied to one of the chest’s handles with multicolored string. “Ah yes. ‘Choices for Princess Anya of Trallonia.’ ”

  She nodded to the dwarves, who threw back the lid …

  Anya couldn’t help but crane forward. However, there were no astonishing magical treasures inside. Anya was disappointed and puzzled to see that the chest was empty, save for six small paper envelopes.

  “Did I explain that it is a random choice?” asked the Wizard. “You pick one of the envelopes. You’ll get whatever is written inside it.”

  “Can’t you just give me something that would be useful?” asked Anya. “I mean, I don’t want to be ungrateful—”

  “Not allowed,” interrupted the Wizard. “Can’t interfere directly, you know. Even a random choice of a gift is stretching it a little bit.”

  She bent down and picked up the envelopes, shuffling them clumsily. One fell on the table. The Wizard picked it up and put it with the others, then fanned them out. But the one she’d dropped stuck out more than the rest. Anya looked at it, then up at the Wizard, who flexed her eyebrows in a way that might or might not indicate anything.

  “I can tell you what the choices are for you, and their flaws.”

  “Please do,” said Anya eagerly.

  “There is the Sword of Never-Ending Sharpness. I hope you don’t get that, because it is so sharp that only the highly trained can use it. I mean you can’t even put it in a scabbard; it would just cut through it, so you have to carry it very carefully. Fantastic sword, though.”

  “Right … ” said Anya. She hesitated before asking, “If I do get the sword, or something else I can’t use, can I give it back?”

  “I shouldn’t worry about that,” said the Wizard cheerily. “I’m sure you’ll get something just right.”

  “Um, thank you … ah … what else is there, please?”

  “The Buckler of Redoubtable Defense,” said the Wizard. “A small shield, just your size. It will intercept any blow aimed at you. The drawback being it moves very quickly, so unless you’re remarkably strong and flexible it might dislocate your arm or shoulder.”

  Anya nodded, not daring to speak. The Wizard waited a moment, then continued.

  “A Thirty-League Flying Carpet. This is a nice one, a big flying carpet, good for thirty leagues before it needs a rest.”

  “What happens after thirty leagues?”

  “It becomes just a carpet. Without the flying part. So you need to be sure you are on the ground before it reaches its limit.”

  “How can you tell?”

  “You can’t. The trick is to only use it from a point A to a point B that is less than thirty leagues away, leaving a good margin of error for a bad map or mistaken calculations. Or you can do a number of small flights, being sure the total distance is well under the thirty leagues. Then it needs to rest before you can use it again. Fly less than the carpet’s stated distance, then let it rest till midnight—that’s the basic rule.”

  “Ah,” said Anya. “How far away is the hill in the Blasted Heath where the witches are?”

  “No more than twenty leagues, I reckon,” said Bert from across the table. “I’m not sure as a crow or carpet might fly. But not more than twenty, in any case.”

  “Carpets are also often temperamental,” added the Wizard. “Won’t fly on cold mornings, or in the heat of the day—that sort of thing. Even the best of them sometimes play tricks as well. You have to be sure to give them strict directions.”

  “Flying would be fun, though,” said Anya.

  “I wouldn’t call it fun.” The Wizard made a face. “Mostly itchy, closed in, and frightening.”

  Anya looked at the Wizard, wondering what she was talking about. Why would flying on a magic carpet be itchy and closed in? But there was no further explanation.

  “The fourth item is a Wallet of Inexhaustible Munchings and Crunchings.”

  Ardent’s ears pricked up at this one.

  “What does that do?” he asked the Wizard.

  “It provides a rather indigestible biscuit three times a day.”

  “And its flaw?” Anya inquired.

  “The biscuit,” said the Wizard with a shudder. “However, it will keep you alive.” r />
  “And the fifth possible gift?”

  “Very traditional. An Ever-Filled Purse. It contains a gold coin, a silver coin, and a copper coin. A noble, a shilling, and a penny. Of the old Yarrow minting, or so they seem. If you spend it, the coin will reappear in the purse at midnight. The flaw in this case is that they’re counterfeit coins, so using them is doubly dishonest. If you’re caught with false coins, the usual punishment is death. And if you’re not caught, then you’ll be bilking whoever you pay.”

  The Wizard went on. “And the sixth choice is something I made myself; all the others were made by my various predecessors. Cloudwalking Boots. Seven leagues in a single step! Provided you step from cloud to cloud, of course.”

  “What happens if there are no clouds?” asked Anya. “Or they blow away while you’re up in the air?”

  “If you’re quick enough to tell the boots to take you to the ground, then all will be well.”

  “And if you’re not?”

  “If you’re not, or you try to take another step not to a cloud, then you fall.”

  “From the height of the cloud?”

  “Yes.”

  “So you’d die.”

  “Usually. But with proper practice, focus, and bad weather, they are an admirable means of getting around. And quite fetching—lovely doeskin lined with silk, with blued steel buckles. But enough of this. It is time for you to choose.”

  Anya looked at the envelopes in the Wizard’s hand. For all her protestations about not interfering directly, one particular envelope really stood out, and there had been that thing with the eyebrows, which seemed as good as a wink.

  Anya took the sticking-out envelope.

  It was sealed with a rectangular silver wax seal bearing the device of a tall hat and crossed staff. Anya slid her fingernail under the seal and broke it off, then opened the envelope. There was nothing inside, but she was used to this style of letter. Unfolding the envelope all the way, she read what was written on the inside.

  “A Wallet of Inexhaustible Munchings and Crunchings.”

  “What? Let me see that!”

  The Wizard took the opened envelope and read the message with a scowl on her face.

  “Um, thank you,” said Anya.

  “Wasn’t supposed to … ” muttered the Wizard, her words trailing off into an incomprehensible mumble.

  “It will likely be very handy,” said Anya hesitantly.

  “You haven’t tasted the biscuit,” said the Wizard, extending her hand to pull a small leather bag apparently out of thin air. But this time Anya was positioned in exactly the right place to see the invisibility cloak worn by the apprentice open and shut. In fact it was more like a small tent than a cloak. The young man underneath was wearing a strange kind of wicker work hat on his head, a pyramidal frame of thin sticks that extended out, so it supported and spread the cloak, enabling him to easily carry things and keep them invisible as well. It looked quite awkward, and doubtless would be very hot and airless in summer.

  Anya took the wallet.

  “Go on,” said the Wizard. “Try it. You might as well know the worst.”

  Anya opened the small bag. There was a rather grayish, unappealing hard biscuit inside. She took it out, nibbled at the edge without making much of a dent, and put it down on the table. A moment later, Ardent’s nose appeared, the biscuit disappeared, and there was a loud crunching noise reminiscent of rocks being broken with a hammer.

  “You see?” remarked the Wizard. “Highly nutritious, though. You’ll never starve with that. Though you might lose some teeth in the process. Now, how to get you to the witches’ meeting in time? I had … err … hoped … you’d get the flying carpet.”

  “Do I get a gift too?”

  The words were a little inhibited by crumbs in his throat, but Ardent’s question was clear.

  “I’m afraid not,” said the Wizard. “I may only give questers gifts. You are a quester’s helper. Shrub, Smoothie, and Prince Denholm are the beneficiaries of the Quest.”

  “I have a Quest too,” said Ardent. “Separate from the princess’s.”

  “You do?” asked the Wizard, brightening up. “What is it?”

  “Secret,” said the dog. “I c-c-an whisper it to you, though.”

  “What?” asked Anya. “What about me?”

  “C-c-an’t tell you, Princess,” said Ardent apologetically. “Dog business. Tanitha told me not to tell.”

  “Hmmph.” Anya was immediately burning with curiosity. What could Ardent have a Quest for? A magic bone? And why couldn’t he tell her about it?

  While the princess sat fuming, the Wizard bent down. Ardent stuck his nose almost in her ear and whispered just a few words.

  “Good,” said the Wizard as she straightened up. “That’s clear. You are a quester, and I am delighted to offer you a gift. Now, to hurry things along, we’ll just go with these envelopes I prepared earlier for Anya. Oh, my eyes are quite tired. Glasses, please.”

  An invisible servant handed over the same gold-rimmed glasses the Wizard had put on the day before. She sat them on the end of her nose and peered at the envelopes carefully, before fanning them out and holding them down for Ardent. Again, one was poking out a little more than the others.

  Ardent sniffed them all twice, then very carefully bit down on the one that was projecting out a little, and drew it from the Wizard’s hand. Putting it on the floor, he set one paw on it and opened it with his teeth. Anya leaned across to read over his shoulder.

  “A Thirty-League Flying Carpet!”

  “Fancy that,” said the Wizard. “Now, is there anything else you need?”

  “Well,” said Anya with a shy glance at the dwarves, who were still busily eating their way through breakfasts that would have stunned her and might even have been a challenge for Ardent. Erzefezonim caught her eye, smiled, and nodded.

  “Well,” continued Anya, speaking to all the dwarves present, “I know you are all master craftsfolk, and I thought perhaps one of you might care to buy a snuffbox I have, because you’d appreciate it more and … and I’d get a better price than from a pawnbroker or merchant in New Yarrow. And if you did, then I’d like to buy some things from the Wizard, if they are to be had. A bag of onions, thirteen lace handkerchiefs, and a pint bottle.”

  “A snuffbox?” asked Sleipjir, suddenly interested. He set down the huge heel of bread smothered in gooseberry jam he’d been gnawing on and held out his hand. “Let’s see it, then.”

  Anya produced the snuffbox from her belt purse and handed it across the table. Sleipjir had only just taken hold of it when he burst into laughter.

  “Ah, it’s one of mine! I made it for the Duchess of Lemmich, let me see, the one before the one before last. Or perhaps her grandmother. A little the worse for wear, I see. Where’s it been?”

  “In the moat at Trallonia,” said Anya. “I did come by it fair and square, or the dogs did. It was lost and found.”

  She suddenly thought of something and looked across at Bert, who was drinking her tea quietly, still looking very somber and thoughtful.

  “You won’t rob it from me now, will you?”

  Bert shook her head.

  “Nay. As I said, that is more a guiding principle than a rule, and in any case, only applies within the bounds we set. The Good Wizard would rightly frown on any such thing here.”

  “Oh good,” said Anya. She looked at Sleipjir. “Will you buy it?”

  Sleipjir held the snuffbox up and turned it around, to catch the light from all angles.

  “I will,” he said slowly. “But it’s dented—that’ll need fine work. And there is a diamond missing. Very hard to match. I’d have to get one in special. The resale value, oh dear, very much reduced—”

  The Wizard coughed, rather meaningfully. Sleipjir looked at her and the corner of his mouth twitched.

  “Ah yes,” he said. “Six gold nobles and not a penny more.”

  “Thank you!” said Anya, beaming. That was more money than sh
e’d ever had. You could buy a horse with a single noble. Or get a dozen very fine dinners.

  “No, no, you’re supposed to bargain,” said Sleipjir earnestly.

  “Say ‘ten nobles and not a shilling less,’ ” suggested Erzef.

  “But six is plenty,” said Anya. “Unless your onions and handkerchiefs are very expensive?”

  “No, no,” said the Wizard. “We’ll give them to you. I’m sure there are plenty of onions in the kitchen, and handkerchiefs galore in the linen room. Jeremy … no, who is that … Saralla, go and get a big bag of the most pungent onions we have and thirteen handkerchiefs. Bring them to the back door.”

  “Oh, and a pint bottle, please,” said Anya.

  “I’ll give you eight and that’s my final offer,” said Sleipjir.

  “Yes, I accept,” said Anya.

  “Well then, nine!” snapped Sleipjir. He reached inside the neck of his mail coat and brought out a very healthy-looking purse he wore around his neck. Opening it carefully so no one else could see inside, he counted out nine gold coins, racked them up into a column, and handed them over to Anya. She needed both hands to hold the stack, and almost spilled them putting them into her own purse.

  “Have to watch out for pickpockets,” said Shrub, who had crept up to Anya’s side without her noticing. “If I still had my fingers, I’d have that off you in a trice.”

  “You can guard me against other thieves,” said Anya. “I’m going to need your help in New Yarrow, for that and for getting into the League’s meetinghouse. You have to forget about the Only Stone, though.”

  The newt nodded glumly.

  “If you serve the princess well, Shrub, you may join us once you’re back in human form,” said Bert.

  “Hey, thanks,” said Shrub, suddenly brightening. He licked both his eyes and capered in a circle for a moment. “I’ll be the best good thief in the business, you watch me!”

  “Come,” said the Wizard. “The noon hour approaches, and by deep tradition and law, you must be gone. Fetch your frog and call your otter-maid, and I will show you out the back door, in case any weasel soldiers still lurk about the place.”