The Ragdoll Chapter 3

Chapter Three.

                          Flick.

          A few days later, LP was wakened by another night visitor. She listened carefully.

“Well, well,” said the Witch, “and what can the Witch of the Dark Forest do for Bardan the robber?”

“There is a wagon train of merchants coming into the kingdom in a few days’ time,” the man replied. His back was to LP, so she could not see his face. “They must come by one of three routes. I need to know which one they will use.”

“And what do you intend to pay me for this information?” asked the Witch.

“Any reasonable price,” said the robber.

The Witch tapped her fingers on the table. “Hmm. You could actually be doing me a favour. I know of those merchants. They are bringing me some rare and very expensive herbs. Find them and bring them to me. The package will be marked with a sign like this.” She drew something on the table, though LP could not see what it was. “Oh, and whatever you do, do not let the parcel get wet. And just so you do not think to cheat me—”

As quick as lightning, she reached out and snatched a few hairs from the robber’s head.

“Hey!” he exclaimed.

“Watch,” said the Witch. She twisted one of the hairs between her fingers. The robber clutched his head and gasped.

“That is agony!”

“You get the hair back when I get the herbs safe and dry,” the Witch sneered. “Come back tomorrow night and I will tell you which pass they are using.”

The robber left.

Once again LP watched as the Witch made her green paste. This time it was an eagle that followed her into the cottage. LP still could not hear the words the Witch used. The world seemed to stand still for a moment; then the Witch vanished, and the eagle flew away. The jewel on its chain lay on the table.

LP scraped the last of the paste into her jar and, remembering the Witch’s warning, left the door open before returning to bed.

In the morning she watched as the eagle disappeared and the Witch reappeared.

That night Bardan returned.

“The merchants are sending three lots of wagons,” said the Witch. “One through each pass. Two are nothing but firewood. The third is the one you want. It will come through Snowbird Pass tomorrow morning.” She held up the robber’s hair. “Just remember.”

Bardan left.

Later that day he returned with a parcel. The Witch opened it, sniffed the contents, and nodded. “Good.”

“My hair?” asked Bardan.

The Witch handed him a single hair and watched him hurry away.

“Idiot,” she muttered as she went back inside. She took down a small box, placed the robber’s hair inside, and set it on a high shelf. “That might come in useful one day.”

LP was cleaning the table. The Witch took the herbs and carefully tipped them into a large stone jar. She sealed the top with candle wax.

“Whatever happens,” she said, “no water must get anywhere near these. They stop working when they get wet.”

LP was brave enough to ask, “What do they do?”

The Witch smiled a very nasty smile. “One sniff of those and the person will do anything I tell them to. And I mean anything.”

A week passed before another late‑evening visitor arrived.

“This is a long way from the sea for a pirate,” said the Witch as she let the man in.

“Aye, it is,” said the pirate, “but I need information. My ship was damaged in a storm and needs repairs. I must know where the King’s ships are, so I can mend mine on a safe beach.”

“And what do you intend to pay me?” asked the Witch.

The pirate took out a small wooden box and opened it. LP heard the Witch gasp. She snatched the box and peered inside.

“There should be three small bottles in here, not two,” she snarled. “This is no use to me without the third.”

“The third bottle is on my ship,” said the pirate. “You may have it when I get the information.”

The Witch mixed her green paste for the third time. This time the bird was a very large seabird — LP did not know what kind. The world seemed to stand still, and the Witch vanished. But this time LP heard the words she muttered:

“Out of me, into you.”

LP collected the remaining paste. Her jar was now full, though she had no idea what she might do with it. Even if she could change into something, she still could not leave unless the Witch accompanied her.

The next day the pirate returned. The Witch told him of a safe beach where he could repair his ship. He handed over the third bottle and left.

The Witch ran into the cottage, clutching the bottle. She placed it with the others in the wooden box.

“Idiot,” she muttered. “These three bottles are worth more to me than all the treasure that man has ever stolen.”

LP asked, “Why?”

“On their own, nothing,” said the Witch. “But mixed together, drop for drop, they make a poison so strong it can kill an elephant.”

LP did not know what an elephant was, but she assumed it was big and hard to kill.

“Now these must be kept cool and dark. If they get too hot, they are useless.” The Witch placed the box in a dark corner far from the fire. “Under no circumstances must you move that box!” she warned.

A month passed before the next visitor. LP still had no idea how she might escape. Every night she whispered to Doll, “We will go home soon.”

This visitor looked very much like one of the stallholders from the town market.

“We have a shipment of fine wine and cloth due tomorrow,” he said. “The King has doubled the taxes again.”

The Witch laughed. “What difference does it make? You smugglers never pay it anyway.”

“That is true,” said the man, “but he has set his Foresters to catch us, and they know the forest paths better than we do.”

“So what do you want from me?” asked the Witch.

“We need someone to lead them to the south end of the forest while we bring the goods in from the north. It must be tomorrow night.”

“That will not be easy,” said the Witch. “The Foresters are a suspicious lot. They will only believe one of their own.”

“True. But can you do it?”

“Oh, certainly. But what payment are you offering?”

The smuggler pulled out a piece of cloth the size of a small tablecloth. He swirled it. LP found it hard to look at. He placed it over his head, and LP saw only a pair of legs, as if the man had been cut off at the waist. The Witch snatched the cloth away, and the man reappeared. Then the top half of him vanished.

“There is a whole roll of this cloth for you if we get through,” he said proudly. “I am sure you could find a use for something that makes you almost invisible.”

“Invisibility spells are not easy, even for me,” said the Witch. “But how do I know you will deliver the cloth? Let me think.”

“You have my word,” said the man.

The Witch sniffed. LP silently agreed, she would not trust him either.

“Aha. I have it.” The Witch took a box from the table and blew a pinch of its contents at the man. He backed away but could not help inhaling some. He sneezed.

“Now,” said the Witch, “if you do not return with my cloth within two days, you will die.”

The man looked terrified.

“And I shall keep this piece, just in case,” she added.

He stumbled out. The Witch placed the cloth on the back of a chair. It was hard to see either the cloth or the chair.

Once again she made the green paste. Then she went outside. When she returned, LP was horrified. This time it was not a bird floating behind her, but a human being, a King’s Forester.

And LP’s heart nearly stopped.

It was her brother, Flick.