Alexander exhaled loudly. "That's what I thought."
The cottage was one rather large room divided in two by a fireplace that sat in the middle of the floor and was apparently used for both cooking and heating. The furniture, though there were only a few pieces, was surprisingly elegant, made of dark, heavy wood and ornately carved.
Jennifer and Alexander waited a long time for the owner of the cottage to return so they could ask for directions out of the forest. But as the time passed they began to worry that whoever it was might be on a long vacation and therefore would not be coming back at all that evening. So they made themselves at home, lit a tire, and cooked dinner.
Or rather, Alexander made himself at home while Jennifer lit a fire and cooked dinner because—as he told her—at home his father, the king, always had somebody around to do that sort of thing for him, and he didn't know how.
So he spent a good deal of time admiring himself in the mirror while she chopped the wood (he held the door for her), cooked a soup from vegetables she found in the cupboard (he complained that it took too long), and cleaned up (he had gone to lie down on the bed—just to rest his eyes for a second while they waited for the dishwater to heat over the fire—and had fallen asleep).
Finally finished, she tiptoed to the side of the bed and smiled down at him. In sleep, quiet for once, his face relaxed and handsome, Alexander looked incredibly helpless and lovable, and his faults were easier to ignore.
Jennifer took two blankets from the chest at the foot of the bed and gently draped one over the prince's slender form.
Then she wrapped the other blanket around her shoulders and went to a chair. With her toes tucked under the cushion for warmth, she was so tired that she fell asleep before she realized how uncomfortable her position was.
The Magic Mirror
JENNIFER WAS IN A ROTTEN MOOD.
Normally her disposition was a model of pleasantness, but for the moment she was sweeping the floor with a fury that accomplished little more than sending clouds of dust skittering from one corner to the next.
Alexander, not aware that anything was wrong, sat on the corner of the table practicing disarming smiles in the large ornamental mirror that had startled them the night before. He tapped his foot to the vague melody he was humming.
"You don't need any help, do you?" he asked without turning to her.
Jennifer swept a pile of dust over the offending foot. Her bad mood had been caused by Alexander's insistence that they leave the house as soon as possible. Some time during the night it had occurred to him that the owner of the little cottage might be angry with them for taking over the place. The best way to avoid the owner's possible anger, Alexander had reasoned, was to avoid the owner.
But for her part, Jennifer had agreed to stay in the house only after she had decided that there was nothing wrong with doing so. She didn't like the idea of slinking away into the woods as if they were guilty of something.
Besides, there were two advantages that she could name in waiting for the owner's return:
1. Whoever lived in the cottage hopefully knew the woods well enough to direct them on the way home.
2. They would have a chance to explain themselves and to assure the owner that someone from King Frederick's castle would be back to pay for all the firewood and food they had used.
Alexander, on the other hand, could counter these two points with three of his own:
1. He, Prince Alexander, could find his way out of any forest, enchanted or not, that had ever grown.
2. It is, after all, a great honor to have royalty visit, so he didn't see why anybody should be reimbursed for anything. And...
3. He had decided to take the mirror with him.
Now while Jennifer found his first reason privately doubtful and the second openly debatable, she could recognize in the third a downright criminal act when she heard one.
Alexander, however, was determined. He was constantly standing in front of the mirror (whether admiring it or himself was never ac tually all that clear), and he was sure that the owner would never willingly part with it.
No amount of arguing, pleading, or threatening had been able to convince him to leave without the mirror, and Jennifer was beginning to fear that if she made Alexander choose between her and the mirror, she would be left to find her own way home.
So now, as Alexander waited impatiently, Jennifer tidied up and tried to figure some way around the situation.
The prince gave the mirror his most dazzling smile. Then he reached over to take it off the wall.
"I wouldn't il I were you," a low voice warned.
Alexander whirled toward the door. It was still closed, and as far as he could tell, he and Jennifer were the only ones in the room.
"I said I'm taking the mirror, and that's that," he said.
Jennifer, who had heard nothing, looked up from making the bed.
"What?" she asked, pushing a long, dark strand of hair out of her eyes.
"I said, i'm taking the mirror, and that's that.'"
Jennifer was puzzled. "Yes, I know."
"All right," Alexander scowled as Jennifer gave him a funny look.
"All right," he repeated, reaching for the mirror.
"You'll be sorry," the same voice whispered.
"Now cut that out!"
Jennifer straightened up and put her hands on her hips. "Alexander, what is the matter with you?"
"Would you please stop telling me not to take the mirror?"
Jennifer sighed. "Well, you shouldn't, but I didn't say anything."
"Fine, just leave it at that." Alexander took a step forward.
"Third warning is the last."
This time she heard it, too. "Who said that?" she demanded.
"Oh, come on," Alexander chided. "Stop playing games."
"Who spoke?" she asked again.
"I did," the voice said.
Jennifer glanced around even though she was already certain that they were the only two in the room. "Where?" she asked.
"Here."
The voice seemed to be coming from the mirror. Jennifer looked at it doubtfully. "Here?"
"Of course. Do you see anybody else in the room?" the mirror laughed.
"Hey, that's pretty good," Alexander said to Jennifer. "How do you do that without moving your lips?"
Jennifer ignored him. "Who are you?" she asked the mirror.
"Let's just say I'm someone who wants to remain where he is."
Alexander laughed. "That's very clever."
"Alexander!" Jennifer cried. "I'm not doing anything! The mirror is talking!"
"Hi, there," Alexander said, trying to hold his lips together. "I'm a talking mirror. Who are you?"
"Really," she insisted, "it's not me."
The prince stepped closer to the mirror, grinning widely, but this time hardly moving his lips.
"Ds izha pdy gid tik efu no ha," he announced.
Jennifer raised her eyebrows at him.
Alexander looked disappointed. "I said. This is a pretty good trick if you know how.'"
"Alexander." Jennifer put her hand on his arm and looked directly into his eyes. "This is no trick. I am not talking for the mirror. Now, Mirror, say something."
The mirror cawed and whistled like a parrot. "The prince is a jerk."
"Wait a minute," Alexander said.
"Did you see my lips move at all?" Jennifer asked. "Did the voice even come from this spot?"
Alexander looked around in bewilderment. "No," he admitted slowly. "But if you aren't talking, who is?"
"The mirror is." Jennifer was becoming impatient.
Alexander wore a look that said he couldn't be convinced that easily. "But a mirror can't talk."
"A magic mirror could."
"But there's no such thing as magic," he protested.
The mirror cawed and whistled again.
"You, be quiet." Alexander stood defiantly glaring at the mirror. "There is," he repeated slowly and delibe
rately, "no such thing as magic."
"The prince is a jerk," the mirror repeated.
"Someone is playing a trick on us!" Alexander bellowed, dashing to the door. He flung it open. No one was there.
Jennifer watched him spend the next several minutes running around the cottage, alternating directions in an attempt to catch whoever he figured had to be out there. Finally she went outside to look for him, and the prince, edging craftily around a corner, found himself nose-to-nose with her. Each gasped loudly.
"Would you stop fooling around?" she pleaded.
Alexander growled an answer she couldn't understand and slunk back inside.
"Anyone out there?" the mirror asked.
"No," Alexander admitted.
"Too bad."
"You are not magic!" Alexander insisted, crossing his arms over his chest and looking as though he felt just a bit silly addressing a mirror. "There is no such thing as magic. I've never seen a witch fly by on a broomstick, or an alchemist change lead to gold, or a frog turn out to be anything but a frog. Those things just can't happen."
"Lesson One," the mirror said: "Don't disbelieve something just because you can't see it."
"You're a fraud!" Alexander cried. "I believe in what I can see. And there's nothing you can do to keep me from taking you with me."
Before he had a chance to make even a slight move toward the wall, there was a hright flash. It was as though the mirror had caught the reflection of the noon sun, magnified it, and flung it back at them.
Jennifer threw her hands up to cover her face and squeezed her eyes shut.
She was still in that position when Alexander lowered the arm he had tried to shield his eves with and blinked roughly several times.
"Now you can't see anything," the mirror said when it was sure Alexander had caught on to the situation. "What do you believe in now?"
Jennifer lowered her suddenly cold hands and looked into the blinded prince's face. Trembling, she saw his expression change from frightened surprise to outrage.
"How dare you!" Alexander said in a quavering voice that became louder with each word. "You can't do this to me!"
"There is," the mirror said, "such a thing as magic."
"Do you have any idea who I am?" Alexander shouted, shaking Jennifer's hand off his shoulder. "My father is the king!"
The mirror remained calm. "Witches do fly on broomsticks, lead is turned to gold, and more princes than you would care to hear about spend their lives squatting on lily pads snapping up flies."
Alexander put out his hand to steady himself and blundered against the table. "Give me back my sight."
"I am a magic mirror."
"Give me back my sight."
"I am a magic mirror."
Alexander's hand tightened around the teakettle. "You are nothing!" he screamed, and hurled the kettle at the mirror.
There was a sharp bang, followed by a yell from Alexander as though he had dealt himself the blow; then there was a clinking, chinking, tinkling noise as if the glass were also crying out.
From the spot where the kettle had hit, Jennifer could see cracks spreading like a crazy cobweb—branching out, meeting, dividing, covering the entire surface of the mirror until it was separated into a thousand shimmering pieces. And in each piece, she saw Alexander's mouth form the same wordless cry as he staggered back and sank slowly, slowly down. Then, with a last crystalline sigh, the countless tiny mirrors released these images and let them join the prince on the floor.
Jennifer stood unable to move until the glassy whispers had faded. Even then, her legs felt weighted down and she was afraid to try walking.
"Alexander," she said softly, reaching out to him.
He remained sprawled motionless on the floor, his eyes closed.
"Is he dead?" Jennifer wondered out loud.
"So it seems," came a steady voice at her side, "but so it is not."
Jennifer spun around to face the mirror, ready to accuse, eager to demand explana tions. Her own reflection glowered back at her—dark eyes in a pale face that frowned more deeply as she realized the mirror was whole again. No smashed center, no jagged cracks—the mirror twinkled and shone in amusement.
"He's not dead?" Jennifer asked suspiciously.
"Asleep."
"How can I wake him?"
"A kiss usually works."
Jennifer was surprised to find that she could walk after all. She knelt beside Alexander and softly kissed his cold lips.
Nothing happened.
"A kiss usually works," the mirror said, "but not always."
Jennifer felt the same sort of frustration building in her that had probably led Alexander to smash the mirror. "What, then?"
"Don't you know?" The mirror's surprise sounded nowhere near genuine.
Jennifer shook her head.
The mirror made a clucking noise. "Lesson Two: If the answer isn't in you, it isn't."
"But what is the answer?" she demanded, jumping to her feet.
"Well, it's not impatience."
Jennifer stamped her foot.
"And it's not anger, either." The mirror's tone was becoming harder. "Why don't you think about it for a while," it suggested, then suddenly snapped, "but not here. You're beginning to bore me. I might decide to put a spell on you, too, any second now."
Jennifer backed toward the door.
"Yes," the mirror considered, "any ... second ... NOW!"
Jennifer turned and ran out the door, down the cobblestone path, through the gate, and into the forest.
Inside the cottage, the mirror continued to twinkle and shine in the morning sunlight.
And the prince slept.
The Old Witch
SHE WAS SIMPLY CALLED THE OLD WITCH.
She was called this by those who lived in the enchanted forest, and by those who had built the magic wall to keep the forest where it belonged, and by all the dark, formless creatures who rode the wind on long, moonless nights.
For as long as anyone could remember, she had lived in a cave whose inside few had ever seen. The cave was filled with the smell of rotting leaves never swept out from autumns long past and with the sound of water drip ping down slimy walls to form murky puddles on the rough floor. For anyone who dared to peek inside, there was an assortment of cobweb-covered jars and boxes containing secret things, a foul-smelling cauldron that bubbled thickly day and night throughout the years, and several species of mushrooms growing in the darkest corners. There was also a hand-embroidered picture that bore the message HOME SWEET HOME.
For the moment the cave's only occupants were the spiders, bats, and silent, slippery things that always live in such places. The Old Witch had gone outside because her magic pool had warned that someone was approaching.
"Who?" the Old Witch had demanded peevishly. "Don't just say, 'Someone's coming,' you fool. Show me who."
The pool's surface had shimmered briefly, then showed the features of a young girl's face.
"Well, she just better not," the Old Witch had cackled. "If she knows what's good for her, she better just steer clear of us." With that she had gone to crouch behind a big rock to get a better look.
Jennifer, unaware either of what was good for her or that she was being watched, spotted not the cave but the clear stream that flowed beside it.
The Old Witch saw Jennifer change direction and softly hissed, "Go on, little trespasser, go on. Keep away from our cave. The magic pool and I, we don't like visitors. We don't like you."
But, of course, she was too far away to be heard, and Jennifer stooped beside the water's edge and cupped her hands for a drink.
When she was finished, the young girl sighed and looked around. She had been wandering, lost and frightened, for several hours and still was no closer to finding her way out of the forest than she had been that morning. She wanted to rest but decided to keep going. The sooner she got back to the castle, the sooner she could bring back help for Prince Alexander. She thought of his handsome face and
his impossible manner, and shook her head, wishing there was someone else around who could handle this.
"What?" the Old Witch murmured. "Leaving already? Has she seen our cave? Is she going to try to get into our home?"
Jennifer had indeed seen the cave, but she definitely had no intention of going anywhere near it, and started back toward the path.
The Old Witch jumped up from her hiding place. "You better not!" she screamed.
Jennifer whirled to face the old woman, whose black clothes flapped like a scarecrow's in the wind.
After what had happened with the mirror, she was very sensitive about following instructions. "What?" she asked anxiously. "I better not what?"
"You better not go near our cave."
Jennifer glanced at the dark hole in the side of the hill that she had noticed before. "But I wasn't," she protested. "I was walking the other way entirely."
The Old Witch glared at her suspiciously. "Well, you just be careful, that's all. Get out of here now."
Jennifer took a few steps backward to put more distance between them. "There's nothing I'd like better," she said. "You see, I'm lost."
"Well, you shouldn't have gotten lost near our cave."
"Honestly, I never intended to. If you could just tell me how to get out of the forest—"
"Out of the forest!" the Old Witch hooted. "Did you hear that? She wants to get out of the forest!"
Jennifer peered around, wondering to whom the old woman was talking. When she looked back, the other's face was up close to her own.
"Nobody gets out of the forest, little one."
"Oh, dear," Jennifer said. "But I need to get some help."
The Old Witch spat on the ground and asked, "What for?"
"To break a spell."
"To break a spell? To break a spell,' she says!" The Old Witch had a very shrill voice that hurt Jennifer's ears, but the young girl nodded, "/could break the spell."
"You could?"
"I could, girlie. I am absolutely, positively, undeniably the most powerful witch that ever was, that ever will be, or that ever could be. I can make spells, I can break spells, I can..." The Old Witch stopped because she couldn't think of anything else she could do with a spell. "Well, anyway, I can. What do you think of that?"