The Brixen Witch (15 page)

Satisfied that Rudi’s own parents were finally asleep, Oma had rocked in her chair and told Rudi this: The spoon belonged to the witch and needed to be returned to her.

Rudi sat up with a start. “How do you know it’s hers?”

She shook her head. “It’s bad luck to talk of such things. But you will take it to her. And you will ask her about the coin. There must be a reason you found that spoon in the same place the coin was lost.”

Rudi inspected the spoon again in the light of the hearth. It looked ordinary enough. Silver, yes, and with a twisted handle, but it would not have been out of place on any supper table in Brixen. And it was pitted and dented and badly tarnished.

“Did she find the coin? Is that why I couldn’t find it?”

Oma rocked harder. “I cannot say for certain. But still I feel that something is not right. First rats. And now this horrible business, stealing innocent
children. Our witch is powerful, and she can be angered, but she’s not cruel.”

“Her servant is much more powerful than we thought,” Rudi said. “How can such a thing happen?”

Oma stared into the fire. “It seems the witch has cause to mistrust her servant as much as we do. Go up and tell her what’s happened. Ask her what you can do about it. There is no hope for getting your friends back unless you beg the help of the witch.”

Now, as Rudi climbed, questions swirled in his mind. How did Oma know the spoon belonged to the witch? And why would the witch allow her servant to wield such power? Once again, he was left to think that Oma knew much more than she was willing to tell.

Rudi climbed higher, always keeping to the path, no matter how much it meandered and twisted. This time he would take no shortcuts. Recalling his three days of futile searching, he could not even cast a glance at the field of scree as he passed it.

He wondered if he was doing the right thing. What kind of fool seeks out the witch in her own country? Why would the witch even want to help him, when he’d already caused her so much
trouble? She’d take one look at him and strike him with a bolt of lightning. Or turn him into a rat, or worse. But he couldn’t think of anything worse. Still he kept on, for the sake of all his friends. If Oma said this was the only way, then it must be so.

Rudi climbed, and the sun climbed higher in the sky. Summer was fleeting on the Berg. Even now, on a mid-July day, the air on the slope of the mountain was cool. In a few weeks’ time the frosts and snows would return, and already Rudi could feel winter’s promise in the chilly air.

Before long, he found himself at an outcropping of rock that looked to all the world like a huge stone bench.

“The Witch’s Chair!” Rudi knew that’s what it must be, though he hadn’t seen it last October, when he’d first stumbled upon the coin. Perhaps the sleet had obscured it from his view then, for today some inner compass told him this was the right way.

Rudi thought how much fun he’d have telling Susanna Louisa that the Witch’s Chair was real after all, and that he had seen it with his own eyes, and sat upon it himself. Then his throat grew tight and his eyes burned. What if he never had the chance to tell Susanna Louisa?

Where were the other children now? Had they
survived the cold night on the mountain while Rudi himself had enjoyed the refuge of his hearth? He’d slept not a wink; still, he’d been warm and safe. But his friends—Rudi could hardly bear to think of what his friends were going through.

He had to find the way to the witch’s cave. He had to endure whatever horrible things the witch might do, and plead for her help in returning all the children of Brixen to their homes and families. It was the only way.

Now he came upon a huge crack in the mountain; one of its many jagged peaks was broken in half from top to bottom by some violent force long past. The crack was just wide enough for a man to step through. Or a boy. Or a witch.

Rudi advanced toward the crevice and stepped inside, where he was engulfed in chilly shadow. Sheer rock loomed on either side of him, so high that he could not see the top of either rock face. He was sure this crevice had been here for immeasurable eons, and would most likely remain here for immeasurable eons more. But he could not push from his mind the image of something—or someone—swooping down to slam the two halves together and obliterate him forever like two hands crushing a bug.

Rudi shuddered. He was about to bolt out the other side of the crevice and into the blinding
sunlight, when he stopped. He stood in the shadow and blinked until his eyes became accustomed to the dim light. And that is when he saw the opening in the rock, barely as high as his waist. He knelt down and peered inside.

“I’ve found it,” he said to himself. “I’ve found the entrance to the witch’s lair.”

Then, before he could think another thought, an arm reached out from the darkness, grabbed him by the collar, and yanked him inside.

A DARK FIGURE loomed over him. A blast of cold air swirled at him, and Rudi gasped at its sharpness. The figure stood between him and the entrance, so that Rudi could see only a black and faceless silhouette against the daylight. It reached down toward him.

Rudi fumbled at his belt, trying to find his knife, but then he stopped.

It was only a hand extended toward him, waiting. The frail-looking hand of someone very old and very small.

Instinctively, Rudi grasped it, and it pulled him to his feet with surprising strength. Then the figure brushed past him and disappeared into the darkness of the cave.

For a moment Rudi stood frozen in fear, but then
he forced himself to follow. After all, this was why he had come.

There came another gust of wind, and behind him the door slammed shut, sealing them inside the mountain. Instantly the cold wind ceased, and they were left in a blackness that softened to dim candlelight.

“You again!” said a voice. “You’ve already caused me all manner of trouble.”

Rudi opened his mouth, ready to protest or to beg for mercy. But the figure turned its back without waiting for a reply.

It busied itself with something in a dark corner. Presently, the dark corner sprang to light as a pile of embers glowed and then licked at a small log. The firelight revealed a furnished room: a braided rug, a cushioned armchair, a sturdy wooden table, a low footstool.

The figure straightened and brushed its hands together. It took off its cloak, hung it on a peg, and turned to face Rudi.

She was nothing but an old woman. Much older than Oma. Perhaps no taller than Susanna Louisa. Her white hair was tucked under a ragged kerchief, and her apron was threadbare. A thousand lines creased her face, but her back was straight and her step was quick.

Rudi gulped down his fear. “You—you can’t be the Brixen Witch.”

“Why not?”

“Because,” said Rudi, “the Brixen Witch is fearsome. She’s terrible to look at, with teeth like spikes and foul, icy breath.”

“Ha!” she said. “I has no need for such display. I believe you has something of mine?” She held out her hand.

For a moment Rudi frowned in puzzlement. Then, “Oh!” He reached into his pocket and produced the silver spoon.

She polished it with her apron. “What else have you brought? Most people who comes to see the witch brings gifts. Offerings. Supplication.”

Rudi blinked, and he patted his pockets. Finally, he brought out a small package and unwrapped it. “My grandmother packed provisions. You’re welcome to them.” For though she didn’t look fearsome, Rudi decided it would be best to make the witch happy.

She peeked into the cloth and nodded with satisfaction. “Ahh, elderberry tarts. Lovely. I accept your gift.”

Rudi decided to ask before he lost his courage.
“Do you have the golden guilder?”

She shook the spoon at him. “Smart lad.”

“Did you dig it up with that?”

She regarded the spoon, frowning. “’Twas handy at the time. One cannot spend precious minutes rummaging for a garden spade at a time like that. One is likely to miss the opportunity altogether. And that would be bad. Very bad.”

Sliding into the armchair, she pointed at the footstool. “I regret I has no other chair to offer. ’Tis not often I have visitors who stay.”

“I don’t mind.” Rudi sat on the stool, and his knees nearly touched his chin. The fire gave off a cheerful glow, and it was already chasing the dampness from the cave. Rudi found himself thinking that this was quite a homey place, for a cave. But he remained wary. She was a witch, after all.

“So,” said the witch, sitting back and resting her hands on her chest. “Young Rudolf Augustin Bauer.”

Rudi’s mouth fell open. “How do you—”

“The family resemblance is unmistakable,” she said. “Rudolf is your Christian name, but no one calls you that.”

He shook his head. “Rudi,” he squeaked.

“Ah, yes. Rudi.” Her eyes bore into him. “What kind of name is that for a boy?”

Rudi could only shrug. “Rudolf Augustin is a
family name. Papa said I’d grow into it, but Oma—my grandmother—said it was too big a name for a newborn child. She called me Rudi, and it stuck.” He sat up as tall as he could manage while sitting so low to the ground. “I
have
grown since then.”

“Quite,” said the witch. “But still you’re called Rudi. Methinks old habits die hard. Anyway, I like it. It suits you. How is your grandmother?”

“Very well, thank you, mistress,” Rudi croaked out of habit. But then his mouth dropped open again. “You—know my grandmother?”

So this was why Oma seemed to know so much! This was how she’d seen the spoon before.

“Aye, Gussie is a lovely girl, and well spoken. Though I suppose she’s not a girl any longer if she’s become a grandmother. I see she’s learned not to burn the elderberry tarts.” The witch took a satisfied bite.

A thousand questions swirled in Rudi’s head. “How did you know I had your spoon?”

She sniffed. “I’m the witch of this mountain. It’s my business to know where mine own things are.”

“That’s how you found the coin as well?”

She nodded.

Then a thought occurred to Rudi, and another piece of the puzzle fell into place. “You found the coin last spring, didn’t you? That’s why my nightmares stopped.”

“Aye.”

“But I lost it last October. Why did you take so long to retrieve it if you knew where it was?” And my nightmares could have stopped that much sooner, Rudi thought, but he held his tongue.