"I'm impressed," Jennifer admitted, which was certainly true. "Will you help me?"
"I don't think so. But we'll see." The Old Witch started walking toward the cave. "Come on, come on. Don't dawdle," she called, and Jennifer reluctantly followed.
She had only taken one step into the cave when the Old Witch whirled to face her. "Want an apple, sweetie?" she asked, pulling a big, shiny red fruit out from within the yards of her black clothes.
Jennifer hesitated. She hadn't eaten since breakfast, but she wasn't sure she cared to trust the witch. On the other hand, she didn't dare offend her either.
"Maybe I'll have one later," she hedged.
"Maybe I won't offer you one later." With her few yellow teeth the witch took a big, juicy bite out of the apple, while watching Jennifer's reaction with her glowing equally yellow eyes. "Good instincts for a young whippersnapper," she announced, tossing the rest of the fruit over her shoulder. "Knows enough not to eat while she's in an enchanted place. Or is she just afraid to take food from a stranger? Who cares anyway? Sit down, little dumpling, sit down. Tell me about this spell I could break with a snap of my fingers if I chose to."
Jennifer started from the beginning—describing Alexander.
This was a mistake. The Old Witch made an ugly, snorting noise. "Handsomest man in the world," she mocked. "What do you know about it?"
"Well, he's the handsomest man I ever saw."
The Old Witch made a nasty sound and ordered Jennifer to the side of what looked like just another of many large puddles on the floor. "Now describe him very carefully."
Jennifer thought this a bit peculiar, but she began to do as she had been instructed. She was interrupted by the witch screaming, "Well, come on, you stupid fool, come on! What do you think we're waiting for?"
Jennifer looked up, but saw that the witch seemed to be addressing the floor. "Please, ma'am," she asked meekly, "who are you talking to?"
"Who do you think, you silly thing?" the Old Witch snapped. "The pool. The magic pool."
"Oh," Jennifer said, and looked back to see a vague form in the water.
"We go back a long time together, the pool and I, don't we?" the Old Witch murmured. "Yes, we do, and now we'll see if this prince of hers is the handsomest man in the world. Go on, pumpkin, go on."
Jennifer began to describe Alexander, and the more she described him, the clearer his picture became in the magic pool.
"Is that him?" the hag asked impatiently. "Is this what you think the handsomest man in the world looks like? Well, he's not bad, I'll grant you that. And I'll wager he's the best a silly young thing like you could find. But he's nothing compared to my beau. Is he now?"
Jennifer wasn't prepared to argue the point, but in any case the witch wasn't talking to her but to the pool.
"Come on, then. Show the child our beau. Come on, come on, you slow thing. There! I wonder what she thinks now. I wonder if she still thinks her prince is the handsomest man in the world."
Jennifer cleared her throat. Now the man whose picture was in the pool was very handsome, there was no denying that. He looked like the kind of dark, mysterious stranger that fortune-tellers are so partial to. Only it just so happened that Jennifer preferred Alexander's blond-haired, blue-eyed, smiling face. "Well, this man certainly is quite handsome," she admitted.
"Yes?"
"Very intense eyes."
"Very," the witch agreed. "And?"
"And he seems quite tall and athletic."
"But what else?"
"What else? Ahm." Jennifer's mind had gone blank and she groped for something to say. "His clothes are very interesting. I've never seen anything quite like them. Does he come from some other country?"
Again, this was the wrong thing to say. The Old Witch brought her foot down sharply at the edge of the pool. When the ripples settled, the picture was gone. "So they're old-fashioned, so what?"
"I'm sorry," Jennifer said, although she wasn't sure what had happened.
"I haven't seen him in a while, but he's coming back."
"Oh," Jennifer said, simply to say something.
"Oh," the Old Witch mimicked. "Oh She thinks she can make fun of my beau just because he isn't here, does she? The pert little thing thinks she's clever just because we haven't seen my beau in a while. But we know he's coming back, don't we?"
"I'm sure he is," Jennifer said, edging toward the cave mouth. "I—"
"I'm sure he is," the witch echoed. "You what? You think he never planned to come back? You think he wouldn't come back to me? Well, I was young and pretty once. Younger than you and prettier than you. We'll see who gets whose beau back first, won't we? If she even has one. If she didn't make him up."
"No, you don't understand. He's not my beau," Jennifer started, but the magic pool was shifting and shimmering again. With a description of Alexander, it had been able to locate him in the enchanted forest and now showed him as Jennifer had left him, asleep under the mirror.
The Old Witch's annoyance at seeing that there really was such a person dissolved with a hiss as she ran a skinny hand through her gray hair. "Malveenya's cottage. The two young fools have gotten mixed up with Malveenya's magic, have they?" She turned to Jennifer and started pushing her closer to the exit. "Get out. We're not going to tinker with Malveenya's spells. Now get out. You have no right to be in our cave anyway."
"But who's Malveenya?" Jennifer asked.
"Who'" the witch cried. " 'Who? Who?' she asks. Who do you think they were so afraid of that they built the magic wall? Who do you think they were trying to keep in here? Silly girl, get out of here. Forget your prince, and leave me alone."
She had pushed Jennifer outside the cave and shoved her in the direction she had been going earlier.
"And don't come back!" she screamed as the young girl took a few uncertain steps.
Jennifer watched as the Old Witch angrily stamped back into the cave. There were so many things left unsaid. Jennifer had never meant to hint that the dark young man didn't intend to come back. She wanted to apologize for giving that impression. Also, she wanted to find out more about this Malveenya and how powerful she really was.
Jennifer quietly stole up to the cave mouth and looked in.
The Old Witch was striding about. "Stupid girl," she mumbled. "Stupid pool, stupid beau. Who needs you? Who needs anybody? 1 think I'll drain the water out of you, Magic Pool; you're a health hazard anyway." She stood tapping her foot. "I never want to see his face again. Do you hear that? Never again."
She stamped around a bit longer while Jennifer tried to decide if she really wanted to go in. She had just decided yes when the Old Witch said, "I've changed mv mind. Let me see him again." She tapped her foot impatiently. "I said, 'Let me see him again.'"
When she got no answer, the Old Witch sank to her knees and pleaded. "I'm sorry, Magic Pool. I didn't mean that about draining you. I like the mosquitoes in summer and the ice in winter. I wouldn't really drain you. Are you still there?"
The pool gave a slight shimmer.
"We go back together a long time, you and I, don't we?" the Old Witch sighed.
The pool shimmered again, and from where she stood Jennifer could see the dark young man's face reappear.
The Old Witch still hadn't moved several minutes later, when Jennifer turned to make her way back to the road.
The Sorcerer
JENNIFER CONTINUED down the road for a very short way before she came to another woodland cottage.
Her first impression was that the place was deserted, for it was rather run-down, with weeds successfully invading the vegetable garden and a broken shutter hanging loose against the side of the house. But then she noticed a well slightly off to one side and a young man pulling up the bucket.
She came up behind him, intending to introduce herself. "Excuse me," she said.
He gave a startled gasp and jumped back. The bucket clattered down into the depths of the well.
jennifer opened her mouth to apologize w
hen, to her surprise, the person standing before her was suddenly gone and she found herself addressing a hawthorn bush.
"That's odd," she thought, circling the bush, which was shaking violently despite the fact that there was no wind.
When she could find no trace of the young man, she started toward the house to see if she could find some help there.
Suddenly she changed her mind. "1 saw what I saw," she told herself, and quickly turned back to the well. She was in time to see an old man with a long white beard trying to tiptoe out of the clearing into the forest. There was no sign of the hawthorn bush.
"Stop!" she called, and the old man froze, then slowly and quietly peeked at her over his shoulder to see if she was talking to him. When he saw that she was, he came back to the center of the clearing.
"How did you do that?" she demanded.
"Do what?" the old man asked, trying to act casual and leaning over the well to pull up the bucket.
"You changed!"
"All life is a series of changes."
"Yes, but just now, this very minute. You were about my age not thirty seconds ago, and then you were a bush. You're a sorcerer, aren't you?" Normally Jennifer wouldn't have been so bold, but the fact that he seemed so nervous made her feel that he wasn't to be feared. Besides, the events of that morning had made her desperate.
"I what? No, of course I'm not! What an imagination you have, little girl."
That was the wrong thing to call her. "I'm not a little girl. And I know what I saw."
"Nonsense," the sorcerer replied, walking toward his house. "How nice of you to drop by. You must come again some day soon." He slammed the door behind him.
Jennifer knocked on the door. "Sir?" she called. "Sir, could I talk with you?"
There was no answer from inside the cottage. Jennifer wondered what she had said to cause this to happen.
She put her face close to the glass part of the door and tried to peek around the edge of the curtain.
She found a fierce gray eye peeking back at her.
Both girl and sorcerer jumped back in surprise. Then he gave the curtain an angry tug and Jennifer could hear him stamp away from the door.
She knocked again. "Yoo-hoo," she cried.
No answer.
She put her ear to the door, but all she could hear was her own breathing.
Suddenly the door flew open and Jennifer half fell into the room.
"Would you please go away?" the old man hissed.
"Not until you help me." Jennifer forced herself to stand straight and look him directly in the eyes, but she was trembling inside and trying to remember what had made her think he was nervous.
"I said, 'Go away!'" the sorcerer bellowed, suddenly transformed into a seven-foot-tall Viking warrior, which left Jennifer at eye level with a bear-tooth necklace low on his chest.
She looked up—again into his eyes. She was beginning to become angry. "You have terrible manners," she said softly.
The sorcerer scowled but slowly shrank back to normal size. By the time they were face-to-face, he was a young man again.
"So what?" He didn't sound angry, but, then again, he didn't sound friendly either.
Jennifer was too angry to worry about how he felt. "I've come to you for help, and you're playing games and being unfriendly and rude and trying to scare me away, and I think that's terrible!"
The sorcerer looked at her coldly. Now that he was standing still, Jennifer noticed for the first time that he was slightly shorter than she was; but the power she sensed in him made her tremble. She became angry with herself when she saw he noticed her shaking.
It was the sorcerer who gave in and lowered his eyes first.
"My apologies," he murmured, holding a flower that hadn't been there a second before.
Instinctively, Jennifer reached out; but the flower was gone before her fingers could grasp it.
The sorcerer was showing her to the door. "But I am busy, and you have invaded my privacy."
"But who can help me?" Jennifer pleaded.
"City hall?" the sorcerer suggested. "A doctor? The cavalry? The high lama of Tibet?"
"No, no, no, no," Jennifer said. "I need you."
"Then you're out of luck," the sorcerer answered, closing the door quietly behind her.
Jennifer sat silently on the step.
After a minute or so, the door opened again.
"Just how long do you plan on sitting there?" the sorcerer asked.
Jennifer didn't answer, and he slammed the door shut again. A few seconds later he opened it. "What makes you think I could help you even if I wanted to?" he shouted.
Still Jennifer didn't answer.
The sorcerer stooped down beside her. "Go home," he whispered.
"I can't," Jennifer said.
He considered this for a moment. "Lost?"
Jennifer nodded. "That's part of it."
The sorcerer sighed and ran his fingers through his frizzy red hair. "Okay," he said gently, "you can come in and have some tea, and then I'll show you the wax out of the forest."
Jennifer started to interrupt, but the sorcerer talked over her objections. "I don't want to hear the rest of it. That's all I'm going to do. I'm not interested in who you are or why you're here. I don't care what your problems are. Tea and the road out. Is that clear?"
"Don't you even want to know my name?"
"Oh, no you don't!" the sorcerer warned. "I especially don't want to hear that. I'm not interested. Don't tell me."
"But why?" Jennifer asked.
"Because if I know your name, you'll become a real person to me. Then, whenever I hear that name, I'll think of you, remember the afternoon we shared tea, and wonder what ever happened to you. I don't want to get involved. I'm no good with people. I don't get to see a lot of them, here in the forest, and I like it that way. So, whatever your problems are, they're your problems. I don't want to know your name and I don't want to know you. Do you understand what I'm saying?"
"Yes."
"Good."
"It's Jennifer."
The sorcerer glared at her.
Jennifer smiled. It was the smile she usually saved for her father when he was angry. It was slow and unsure and eventually turned into a sad little frown with downcast eyes.
This last part, however, made it hard for Jennifer to tell what kind of reaction it was getting.
She could hear the sorcerer stand up. When she finally looked at him, his face had not softened; but he stood by the open door waiting for her.
He sighed as she came in. "Mine's Norman," he said.
Norman
THE COTTAGE WAS BRIGHT and cheery but so cluttered that moving about was difficult.
The young sorcerer gathered a pile of books and papers off the table and put them on a nearby chair. Then, realizing that he had now filled the only available chair in the house, he picked them back up and looked around helplessly before adding them to an already tilting stack of boxes on the floor.
Jennifer sat on the edge of her seat to keep from leaning on the unfolded laundry draped over the back.
He removed a potted geranium from the top of a little three-legged stool and, still holding the plant, pulled the stool closer to Jennifer.
"Now, Jennifer," he said, "tell me again."
She had already explained everything once, while he had been preparing the tea. Now she began again.
"With the mirror," he interrupted. "You're leaving something out there."
"What?"
He gave her a disappointed look. "If I knew that, would I need you to tell me?" He kept changing all the while they were talking—short to tall to old to young. At the moment he was about her father's age and had given himself less kinky hair.
Jennifer wasn't sure if it would be polite to comment on all this, but she found it most distracting.
Norman was still talking. "You see, there has to be a way to break the spell; and by the rules of magic, the mirror had to tell you how." He held up a han
d to forestall her objection. "It might not have told you clearly, but it did tell you."
Jennifer thought that over for a while. "Oh, like a riddle." He nodded, and Jennifer watched, fascinated, while he made a strange motion, chewing on air, with his hand close to but not touching his mouth. Seeing her expression, he suddenly remembered that he didn't currently have a beard and tapped his teeth instead.
"Let's go over everything you can remember the mirror saying," Norman suggested.
They did, several times. But again and again they found themselves facing two ideas that seemed most likely to hold the key, but that they couldn't decipher.
The first was when the mirror had said, "Lesson One: Don't disbelieve something just because you can't see it." ("A valid point," Norman admitted, "though it's too bad the mirror felt obliged to prove it.")
Lesson Two was bothersome to the young sorcerer: "If the answer isn't in you, it isn't."
"Well," Norman reasoned, "if it's in you, then it can't very well be in me"
That sounded distressingly like he was still trying to get out of helping her, so Jennifer quickly asked, "Are you going to tell me about Malveenya?"
"I've never actually met her, but from what I hear she's extremely powerful and has a temper that would make that mirror of hers seem gentle as a month-old bunny."
"Oh," the girl said.
"I gather she likes to use pain and fear on helpless creatures—not necessarily to get her own way, but just because she likes to."
Jennifer gulped and decided she didn't really want to know any more about Malveenya. "Is there anything we can do about Alexander?" she asked instead.
"Okay," Norman considered. "Malveenya has several places around the forest. Apparently she was away from the cottage and the mirror was simply acting on its own to defend itself. If you had left it alone, it wouldn't have bothered you."
Jennifer gave him an apologetic half-smile.
"The fact that the mirror was acting on its own, without Malveenya's power, means that maybe the spell is weak enough to be countered."
Jennifer jumped up from her chair. "You can break the spell?"