The Ragdoll Chapter 2

   Chapter Two.

               Watching the Witch.

LP put her mind to work on a way of getting home. She watched carefully everything the Witch did. She even considered pushing the Witch into the oven, having once heard a story about some children who escaped that way. Unfortunately, the Witch’s oven was far too small to fit anything larger than a loaf of bread, so that idea was useless. Besides, the Witch had said LP could not leave unless the Witch went with her, and if the Witch were burned to a cinder, that would be rather difficult.

Most of the Witch’s spell‑making happened after dark, when LP was supposed to be in bed. So LP made a small hole in the wall beside her cot, just big enough to watch through and hear what the Witch muttered over the potions bubbling on the stove.

One evening, while LP was watching, the Witch suddenly straightened and went to the cottage door. Before anyone knocked, she flung it open.

“Well?” she demanded.

LP heard only a muffled reply.

“You had better come in, then,” said the Witch.

A cloaked figure entered and stood by the kitchen table. He removed his hat and pushed back his cloak. LP could see him clearly. To her surprise, he wore the same uniform as the soldiers she had sometimes seen riding past the farm gate. She listened intently.

“His Majesty needs some information,” the soldier said. “There is a body of outlaws in the North, and we need to know exactly where they are. The King wondered whether, with your special skills, you could find out.”

“I could,” said the Witch, “but why should I?”

“His Majesty is willing to pay a reasonable reward.” The man took out a bag and rattled it.

The Witch reached over, opened it, and took out a gold coin. “Hah!” she said, and crumbled the coin to dust between her fingers. A cloud of black dust drifted to the floorboards. “That is how much use gold is to me.”

“Oh!” The man sounded shocked. “What would you want, then?”

The Witch cackled. “There is something, nothing too difficult, that I would like. In the palace garden there is a Rowan tree. As you know, I cannot go near such things.”

The man nodded. LP stored that piece of information away at once.

“Under that tree,” the Witch continued, “are some toadstools. The Princess must pick them for me at midnight and put them in this bag.” She took a small bag from a cupboard. “She must tie the string tightly, and under no circumstances must anyone open it. Bring it to me tomorrow night, and I will have your information.”

“The Princess will not be harmed, will she? The King would not allow that.” The man sounded worried.

“I can promise you that the toadstools will not harm the Princess in any way whatsoever,” said the Witch. “Now go. I have much to do if you are to learn where the mercenaries are hiding.”

The man wrapped himself in his cloak and left.

When the door was firmly closed, the Witch gave a wicked chuckle. “The toadstools won’t hurt her,” she said, “but while they are tied up in that bag, she will belong to me!”

LP was horrified.

She continued to watch as the Witch gathered ingredients from around the room. She mixed them in a small bowl until they became a thick green paste, then went outside.

Moments later she returned, a huge barn owl floating behind her. Its wings were folded, and it looked terrified. The Witch smeared the green paste on its beak and above its eyes. Then she stepped back, held up the jewel she always wore around her neck, pointed it at the bird, and muttered something. The whole world seemed to stand still for a moment. Then the Witch vanished.

The owl shook itself, dropped to the floor, and walked out of the door. LP could not see where it went.

She slipped out of bed and into the kitchen. Everything looked the same as usual, except for the black dust on the floor. The mixing bowl was still on the table, with some of the green paste clinging to the sides.

Quickly, LP found an old jar and scraped in as much paste as she could. It was the first spell the Witch had ever left lying around, and LP hoped it might come in useful.

As she turned to go back to bed, she noticed the gold chain with the large jewel lying on the table. Puzzled, she picked it up. She remembered only ever seeing it around the Witch’s neck. She held it up to the window to look at it in the bright moonlight. She quickly put it down again. It seemed to her that she could see the Witch’s face in the centre of the jewel.

LP closed the cottage door and went back to bed.

At dawn, she was woken by a knock at the door. She scrambled up and opened it. The barn owl stood on the step. It gave her a savage peck and pushed past her. It went straight to the table and pecked at the jewel. For a brief moment the world seemed to halt, and then the Witch appeared. The owl was gone.

“Stupid girl!” snapped the Witch. LP sucked the peck on her hand. “Next time you get up and find the door open, you leave it that way. Understand?”

LP nodded and got on with her chores.

That night, the King’s messenger returned. He handed over a bag. The Witch held it to her ear and nodded.

“The outlaws are camped in a valley on the west side of the mountains, where the River Dote rises,” she told him. “They think they are safe there.”

“I know it,” said the messenger, smiling. “They have trapped themselves. There is only one way out of that valley. The King will be very pleased. Thank you.” He bowed and left.

The Witch hung the bag on a hook in one of the ceiling beams. The next morning, she warned LP that, under no circumstances, was she to touch it.