the air. Not as gracefully as Hilda managed, but he was in the air. He was sitting on the air-cushion. And he directed his broom to the witch overhead who was watching him come towards her.
Hilda knew that a gate had opened inside William. He was accepting his magic now. The way he got on the broom, the feeling she sensed inside him, and the relative ease that brought him in the air made her feel good. She waited until he was next to her, as she had a smile waiting for him, and a kiss.
"You are becoming a wizard, William," she said, after delivering the goods. "Come. We fly." She headed out, in front of him, leading the way.
Mere seconds later William followed her, not afraid, in control of the broom and the motion, only subconsciously aware of the small currents in the air around them and reacting to them. There was just the flight, the witch that he loved, the air and the wonderful new world below them.
31. Home improvement
In the days that followed, William's flying skills improved rapidly. He was also becoming more proficient in the use of magic in other areas, but still Hilda sometimes despaired at the erratic way his progress continued.
One night, as they had gone to bed, Hilda leaned her elbows on William's chest and looked at his face. His features looked very serene in the candle light, she thought. "I've been thinking," she shared with him.
"Oh god," he responded.
She slapped him. "Hey!" She kissed the spot on his cheek where she had hit him. "Maybe it would be the best thing to try and run off when the challenge is about to happen."
"And you think that will help?" William folded his arms around Hilda and gently pulled her down so her head rested on his chest.
"No. It won't. But it might buy us some time figuring out what to do about it."
"We still have over two and a half months to come up with something," William said as he stroked her hair.
"Moons, William, moons. When will you learn to speak properly- no, don't stop that, at least your hands know what to do. They have understood the magic."
He smiled as he heard Hilda purr like a kitten under his touch.
"You know, William, sometimes you scare me. Just a little bit of course," she said.
William grinned. "Of course." He did not want to hurt her ego nor her feelings.
"The things you do and say... some of them are very sensible. But some things, important things, it is as if you really can't understand them. The simple magic that you have so many problems with. The challenge and Lamador. They are not games, William. These are serious things." Again she basked in the gentle and simple attention of his hands, his presence and his warm body.
"I understand that, Hilda. I do, really. But unlike you, I am still new to this world, this life and everything that goes around. Three weeks ago I was selling books, driving around in a truck from town to town. Now I am living with a real live witch who is a wonderful person to me-"
"Am not. I just keep you because you know how to please me," she interrupted him.
"-and I am flying around on a broom while all kinds of new stuff is coming to me. The magic, I mean, Baba Yaga, king Walt, and yes, the challenge and Lamador." As he spoke that name, he felt how she twitched, if only slightly. "And I remember seeing him in Gerdundula's garden. Believe me, he scared me also."
"Oh. Good," the witch muttered against his skin.
"But I also remember Babs telling you, and me, that there should be a reason that I came here when you asked for help."
"Not that again, William. Please. She just said that because she felt she had to say something."
"I will believe that when you do, you witch."
Hilda leaned up on her arms again. She stared at him with her jet-black eyes. After careful consideration, she said: "I hate you." Then she lay down again. "Now continue pleasing the witch."
"Yes, my lady," he smiled and resumed his handiwork. It was not long after that he sensed Hilda was asleep. He rested his hands on her back, used magic to slip the covers over them and slowly he nodded off himself.
"William?"
It was more the soft warmth against his ear that woke him than hearing his name. "Yes?" His voice sounded broken and crackled from the sleepy state he arose from.
"I don't hate you."
A soft kiss on his cheek proved that statement.
"I'll make breakfast."
The comforting warm weight of the witch shifted away, then came back for a moment, followed by a kiss on his other cheek. After that Hilda left the bed for real. William wondered a bit about her behaviour, as he so often had done before. And this time too, he told himself to stop that. She was very much her own person: unpredictable, wild at heart and, once you got to know her, amazingly tender at soul.
The wizard under construction slipped out of the bed and made his wand appear. He thought of a housecoat, dark blue and velvet. It appeared and he smiled. The wand gone again, he put on the housecoat and slowly walked down the stairs.
"What did you do?", Hilda asked from the kitchen.
William grinned. He knew that she would know. That link she had with him was amazing. "I made a housecoat to wear before coming down."
"You did? What colour?!" Hilda came from the kitchen to look at his creation. "Oh!! Pretty!" Then she darted back into the kitchen. "Go sit down, this won't take long."
'A truer word...', William thought as he was passed by a few plates flying to the table. "Hey, kitchen witch, you are overdoing things!"
A chiming laughter from the kitchen was his reward. "I'll be right there with the tea."
William sat down and grinned. She had food done in the blink of an eye and tea was the hard part of breakfast.
Hilda came to the table, the teapot floating in front of her. "Hot hot, be careful," she warned him. Skillfully she filled the cups and made the pot land on a thick clay coaster.
Over breakfast, Hilda asked William if he had a problem with staying at home for a change. "I don't want people to think that I am in any way relying on you or so. They have to know that I am a solitary witch who handles her own stuff."
"Even when you are now living together with me." He winked.
"Well, you are not a witch, so in that respect I am still a solitary witch," Hilda said, making a point.
"I'll be fine here, sweetwitch," William nodded. "Just you go out and do the things you are good at. I have books here, and the house to talk to."
"If the house wants to be talked to," a low voice remarked.
"Of course, that is a requirement," William grinned.
Twok.
Something that was not a sound but more a sensation of discomfort or hindrance seemed to flash through the room momentarily.
"What was that?", William wondered.
"The mail," commented the house.
"I know that, but the feeling right after that?"
There was no reply, so William shook his head and pushed the issue to the side.
Hilda was ready to go. "Behave, okay?", she cautioned William, a blue twinkle in her eyes.
He put his arms around her and patted her behind. "I will. Don't worry. And you'll know when something is wrong."
"Yes, this is true," she nodded. "A very reassuring thought." After a last kiss she left the house.
William saw her speed off into the air, looking through the window. A thought surfaced again, one that had been in his mind for a while already. He went up into the bedroom of the witch and sat down on the bed. The wand appeared in his hand.
"Okay, house, I think we need to talk. House to man."
"Do we?", the house asked curiously.
"Are we having fun?"
The voice of the witch came from somewhere above him. William opened an eye, encountering darkness still. He lifted the book from his face and saw Hilda hovering over him, looking down. "Ayup, lots of fun, and with you there it's even better," he said.
"All right. I am convinced you feel the need to explain the change. And what's that thing you are sitting on? Or lying?" The wi
tch landed her broom and curiously eyed the sunchair William occupied.
He got up from it and explained what the thing was. And also that it had taken him over a dozen tries to get it right as he had never taken a serious interest in the making of sunchairs. "But I think I have the trick down now."
"That's good," said Hilda who sat down in the chair, "if you make another one you can sit also. And while you are at it, you can tell me what that pole is near the door."
William already had his wand ready to make a new sunchair. "That is for the house."
"Oh. For the house." Hilda looked at William as if she assumed him to have gone slightly bonkers.
"Indeed. We had a good talk, and it told me that it is getting fed up with the arrows being shot into it. So I thought it would be a good idea to put up the pole, so the mail-archers can shoot their arrows in there."
Hilda stretched herself in the chair. "This chair is a really shiny idea, sweet man, but I am not altogether overwhelmed with the pole. It's in the way for a fantastic broom approach, for one. And are you going out to it when the weather sucks?"
"Okay, not such a good idea then," William said. He worked his wand, and another sunchair appeared.
"I want that one!"
The chair was purple.
William grinned. "I'll think of something else then, for the arrows. Perhaps just a wooden board they can aim for, that hangs next to the door."
"Yes. That's more like it," the witch said as she sat in the purple sunchair. She did not make it clear if she meant the board or the chair. "As long as it is purple." That too did not help William. "Looks like you've been biding your time, sweet man, your magic is much better