A Witch’s Kitchen Page 7

  Sagara took a moment to swallow. “Well, I suppose it might be interesting to someone who doesn’t know any better. I’ll bring it tomorrow, but it’d be written in Elvish.”

  “That’s fine; we have an Elvish-Canto dictionary at home.”

  Sagara laughed. “Sure, that’ll make it easy.”

  “So will you play with us today, Sagara?” Petunia asked.

  The elf shook her head. “I’ve got research to do. Sorry.”

  “What do you call an unathletic elf?” Petunia asked.

  Sagara grimaced. “Annoyed.”

  “No, a shelf!” The pixie dashed off, giggling.

  The gong rang, and Millie got her first taste of Freeze and Leap, playing with Max and Petunia on the pixie team. She spent most of recess frozen, but Millie didn’t really care. It was so much fun just playing with other children.

  After lunch, Millie had Elementary Potions with Max, which was taught by a cheerful but easily distracted brownie, Mistress Mallow. Normally quite small, about the height of Millie’s knee, Mistress Mallow had dark brown skin, like soft, supple bark, dark brown hair pulled back into a neat bun beneath her green teacher’s cap, and warm golden brown eyes. She wore a saffron orange dress with a neat apron over it that made Millie miss her own aprons.

  Mistress Mallow refused to let Millie and Max sit together, so Millie shared a worktable with a young gryphon named Terrence.

  “For today’s lesson, we shall be brewing sleeping potions,” Mistress Mallow announced. “Please light your braziers and set your flasks on them to heat. Now, we will be working with shadow juice, month-old cobwebs, and dream dust. Be very, very careful not to inhale any dream dust, or you will spend the rest of the day napping. Oh, dear,” she said, glancing at Millie’s worktable, where Terrence was already snoring deeply. “Too late.”

  Millie did her best to follow Mistress Mallow’s instructions, but they reminded her too much of lessons with Bogdana. Instead, her mind drifted, thinking about what she did when she needed help sleeping. And then she caught a whiff of her potion.

  Mistress Mallow caught it, too. “What is that? What’s that I smell? Chamomile?” She bustled over to Millie’s worktable. Millie shrank in her seat and considered hiding under the table. But Mistress Mallow had moved too quickly. She tapped the glass flask bubbling away over the brazier. The liquid inside was a pale yellow, translucent and tempting. Mistress Mallow sniffed it. “Chamomile tea? How on earth did you do that?”

  “I’m s-s-sorry,” Millie blurted out. “I didn’t m-mean to do that. I followed all your instructions, r-really I did. Please don’t be m-m-mad at me.”

  Mistress Mallow cocked her head. “Whyever would I be mad at you? This is an interesting result, a far cry from the usual broken crockery and explosions. Now, how did you manage this? We didn’t even use chamomile among the ingredients, though that might have been a useful addition.”

  “I- I don’t know how I did it,” Millie said, her stomach twisting into knots. “This is always what happens when I try to make p-potions. I m-m-mess everything up.”

  “Hmm... we’ll see about that,” the brownie said. “I’ll just take this for analysis.” She pulled on a mitt and took the flask. “And blow out that brazier, if you please.”

  Millie did so, just as a flask across the room exploded. Mistress Mallow sighed. “Really, Snorri? That’s the third flask this month.”

  

  After Elementary Potions, Millie had exercise class. She hadn’t known what the word meant until they assembled in the glade. She was woefully unprepared. Master Schist, a gargoyle, started off by making them run ten laps around the glade. Millie had worn her formal shoes, and her feet burst into blisters before she had completed a single lap. But Master Schist allowed no excuses and simply instructed her to run barefoot, which was admittedly much better.

  Then they did twenty push-ups, except for the four-legged students who alternated pushing up their fronts and their rears. Then the students without hooves climbed ropes hung from Quercius’s branches, and no flying was allowed. Grumpkin excelled at everything, Sagara scaled the ropes like a squirrel, but Millie had never climbed anything steeper than her staircase and fell off the rope several times.

  At the end of school, Millie had rope burns on her hands, bruises on her knees, and blisters so bad she could barely walk. Max spotted her staggering through the glade with her shoes in her cauldron, Petunia pacing in agitation at her ankles.

  “Let me give you a ride home,” Max suggested, rolling out his carpet.

  “Won’t that make you late getting home?” Millie asked.

  Max shrugged. “Honestly, I usually hide out until dinnertime anyway. Please, allow me.” He gave her a deep bow as he rolled out the carpet.

  “Well, as long as I won’t get you in trouble.” Gratefully, Millie settled herself on the carpet.

  Petunia danced excitedly beside them. “Can I come, too? Pleeeeease?”

  “She does live near me,” Millie said.

  “Oh, sure, why not?” Max said. “Take a seat.” He sat cross-legged next to Millie.

  Petunia leaped aboard and climbed onto Millie’s lap. “Hey, what do you get if you cross a fairy and your pet carp?”

  “Um, a scaly fairy?” Max asked.

  “Nope, a flying carp-pet!” Petunia laughed so hard, she fell into Millie’s cauldron. “Mmm,” her voice echoed up. “Cookie crumbs.”

  Max and Millie laughed, too. “I have to tell that one to Sylvester, another wizard I know. His dad keeps giant carp in the moat around their tower.”

  Petunia climbed out of the cauldron. “C’mon, let’s go!”

  Millie gripped the edge of the carpet tightly as Max twisted a tassel, and they zoomed out from under the branches of the oak tree. Petunia whooped with joy.

  “Ohhh, d-darkness,” Millie moaned, squeezing her eyes shut.

  “What’s wrong?” Max asked.

  “I don’t like heights,” Millie gasped out.

  “I’ll decelerate and even it out,” Max told her.

  Petunia sighed. “Too bad. That was fun.”

  The carpet leveled out and slowed down, so that it felt to Millie like a light breeze was blowing. Cautiously, she opened one eye. And then she opened both of them wide.

  The whole of the Enchanted Forest was laid out before them like an enormous green quilt. To her surprise, Millie saw that it wasn’t completely flat. There were rolling hills and broad valleys. Here and there she saw the silvery glimmer of a river or the mirror expanse of a lake.

  “There’s the Faerie Vale,” Petunia called out, pointing to a valley riotous with flowers. “About a dozen of my aunts and uncles and a bazillion of my cousins live there.”

  Millie spied a patch of forest where all the leaves were tinged with silver and gold. “That must be the Sylvan Wood,” she called out.

  “And over there’s the Schwarzwald,” Max said, gesturing at a place where a shadow seemed to lie over the forest, the trees dark and twisted. “That’s where goblins, ogres, and trolls live.”

  “And there’s Pixamitchie!” Petunia cried out.

  “My house is just on the edge of the fen, there,” Millie told Max. “Oh, but you’ll have to land at least a hundred feet away. Mother has strong wards up and won’t let anything fly near the house except for her and Baba Luci.”

  “I can feel them from here,” Max told her. “Coming down now.” He twisted another tassel, and the carpet glided gently down to land on the Path without so much as a bump.

  Petunia leaped out. “That was amazing!” she screamed. “Can we do that every day?”

  Max winced, rubbing his ears. “Um, tomorrow I have a lesson with Dad, so I must decline. My apologies. Will you be able to walk, Millie?”

  “M-mother will patch me up,” Millie said, hobbling off the carpet.

  “Oh, good. Well, see you tomorrow.”

  Millie limped the rest of the way home, where Bogdana complained loudly as she smeared healing ointm
ents on Millie’s feet. “What a useless school, damaging children like this. And now I have to brew more ointment. I’d make you do it,” she said, glaring at Millie, “but I’d probably end up with raspberry jam instead. So do try not to damage yourself from now on.” Bogdana glanced at Millie, then said casually, “You know, you can quit school anytime. You’ve fulfilled the Baba’s request. You don’t have to go back.”

  Millie gritted her teeth. “N-n-no, I want to keep t-trying. I’m sure it will get better soon.”

  The Backwards Witch

  On Threesday, Millie woke up with her feet completely healed. She made oatmeal bread, scrambled eggs, and sweet maple sausages for breakfast, then went through the morning ritual of mud and slime mold. She packed leftovers from last night’s dinner in her cauldron and headed out to the Path. Petunia met her by the kitchen gate, a large box balanced on her head.

  “What did you bring for lunch today?” Petunia asked.

  Millie grinned. “Butternut squash soup, grilled asparagus, and oatmeal bread.”

  Petunia’s face fell. “No dessert?”

  Millie smacked her forehead. “Dessert!”

  “Awwwww...” Petunia said.

  “Just kidding. Chocolate chip cookies.”

  Petunia squealed and did a wild dance around Millie’s ankles, the box tipping dangerously. “Come on!” she said. “The sooner we get to school, the sooner we can have lunch. I brought some goodies today, too. Mutton sandwiches and raspberry-rhubarb crumble.”

  “That sounds great,” Millie said. “I love rhubarb.”

  They got to school just as Max came zooming in on his carpet. “I thought I’d be late,” he told them. “Cretacia followed me, and it took me eons to lose her in the forest.” He rolled up his carpet and headed up the stairs. “See you at lunch?”

  “Of course,” Millie replied.

  Before circle time, Millie snuck over to the bean pots, then gasped. Something had sprouted in her pot, but it looked different from the others somehow. She took the pot down from the windowsill. The sprout was bigger than most of the others. It pushed up a much darker bean husk, a sort of purplish brown, and it smelled sort of fruity, like bananas.

  Master Augustus trotted over. “Your bean sprouted, Millie?”

  Millie nodded. “But it looks different, and it smells funny. Is it sick?”

  The faun frowned over the pot. “I’m not sure. Let’s give it a few more days and see how it does.”

  That morning, they had Reading Group, in which everyone talked about a book they’d read. Millie had read the book during Independent Work the previous day, and now she listened, amazed at how everyone talked about what the characters were feeling, and why they did what they did, and what would happen next. Embarrassed, Millie realized that she was only supposed to read the first two chapters of the book.

  After Reading Group, Millie went off to Charms and Enchantments. It was held in the same lab room as Elementary Potions and taught by a very formal and proper unicorn, Mistress Pym, her glossy coat the color of fresh snow. To Millie’s delight, Petunia was also in the class. Unfortunately, so was Grumpkin.

  “Today, class, we’ll be making insect repellent charms. Many sections of the Enchanted Forest are approaching their summer season, so this is both timely and practical. Please open your scrolls. Note that the charm lasts for only twenty-four hours. Longer insect-repellent charms require more potent ingredients and can have unpleasant side effects such as skin rashes and noxious odors.”

  Petunia nudged Millie. “On goblins, how could you tell?” she whispered, loud enough for Grumpkin to hear. He glared back at her.

  “To effect this charm, you must grind the ingredients in the mortars, sprinkle them on your skin, and recite the incantation on your scroll. You will need frankincense, beetlebane, condensed cedarwood smoke, and alum. Who can tell me why we use alum?”

  Several hands and forelegs shot up, and Millie tentatively added hers.

  “Millie, isn’t it? Nice to see initiative from a new student. Go ahead.”

  “Alum is a binding agent,” Millie said in a tiny voice.

  Mistress Pym shook her mane. “What’s that? Speak up so everyone can hear you.”

  Millie cleared her throat and said, a bit too loudly, “Alum is a binding agent, Mistress Pym.”

  The class giggled, but the unicorn nodded. “Quite right, quite right. And if you don’t have alum on hand, what other binding agents could you use? Grumpkin?”

  Grumpkin, who had been mimicking Millie, stopped and scratched his head. “Um, glue?”

  Mistress Pym snorted. “I suppose that would do for goblins, but what about something less, er, messy?”

  Millie raised her hand again, and Mistress Pym nodded at her. “Arrowroot is also a good binding agent,” she said.

  “Correct!” said Mistress Pym. “Well done. Now, let’s get busy. Measure out your ingredients into the mortar and get grinding.”

  Grumpkin scowled at Millie.

  Millie took up her measuring spoons and carefully measured out each ingredient. Beside her, Petunia simply pinched or scooped out the ingredients with her fingers, littering the table with bits of beetlebane and trickles of condensed smoke.

  “Aren’t you going to measure?” Millie asked.

  “Nah,” Petunia said. “Pixies never bother. Come on, get grinding before Picky Pym gets after you.”

  Millie turned back to her mortar, but out of the corner of her eye, she saw Petunia sneak a tiny pinch of glittering white powder from a pouch at her waist, then add it to her mortar. The pixie quickly began grinding.

  Millie ground at her ingredients, too, having some difficulty with the condensed smoke. It looked like a black powder, but it clumped and flowed, rather like honey. As she beat it into the other ingredients, Millie thought about beating honey into batter. Perhaps I’ll make honey-glazed chicken for dinner, she thought. Eventually, Millie managed to grind everything together into an even grey powder.

  “Everyone ready?” Mistress Pym asked. “Now, sprinkle a bit of your mixture onto your skin and recite the charm. Millie, can you read High Mystery?”

  “Of c-course, Mistress Pym,” Millie said, trying to sound more confident and less terrified than she was.

  “Very good, carry on.”

  Millie glanced around her. Everyone else was sprinkling their mixture on a bare bit of skin, a forearm or shoulder or knee, and reciting the charm in halting High Mystery, which was always challenging. Sometimes Millie thought it didn’t want to be said. Carefully, she sprinkled some of her powder on her left arm. Then she read the charm aloud. “Karkoita hyönteiset,” she read. Skin to insects forbidden be.

  The powder sank into Millie’s skin, and to her astonishment, a golden shimmer enveloped her. Did I actually do it right? she wondered. Then she glanced at the other students and saw that their shimmer was more silvery or grey. Mistress Pym gave her a puzzled look, then turned to Petunia, whose charm glittered brightly.

  “Using pixie dust again, Petunia?” the unicorn asked.

  Petunia blushed a bit. “That’s how pixies do it.”

  “I have told you not to use pixie dust in this class. It encourages sloppy practice, which can be dangerous in more advanced enchantments. Ten points off your grade.”

  Petunia groaned.

  “Now let us see whether you have succeeded,” the unicorn said. She trotted up to a small wooden box on her desk and tapped it with her horn. The box sprang open, and a cloud of buzzing mosquitos sprang out. They hovered in the air for a moment, then immediately attacked Millie.

  “Eeek!” Millie cried, slapping at them frantically. “Help, they’re all over me!”

  Petunia jumped forward, waving her arms wildly around Millie, which just caused the mosquitos to move to less protected parts of Millie, like her legs.

  Mistress Pym rushed forward, her nostrils flaring. “What have you done? You smell like honey. You’ve made an insect-attracting charm, Millie!”

  G
rumpkin broke out in howls of laughter. “Some witch!” he cried. “You do everything backwards. You’re a backwards witch!”

  “Backwards witch! Backwards witch!” the other students began chanting.

  “Oh, yeah?” Petunia yelled back at Grumpkin. “Why do goblins never wipe their noses? Because they think a runny nose is exercise!”

  Grumpkin laughed. “Think I’m stupid? You’re the one who’s friends with a backwards witch.”

  Covered with mosquito bites, desperately slapping at her face and arms, humiliated again, Millie got angry. Why did people have to rub it in? She knew she was a terrible witch, she knew she did everything wrong, it really didn’t bother her anymore. But why did they have to go after her friends? If Grumpkin only knew how it felt.... A tingle came over Millie, from her fingers to her toes, and suddenly, Grumpkin’s shimmer changed, from a dark grey to a pale gold. Half the cloud of mosquitos careened away from Millie and attacked Grumpkin.

  “Geroff!” he howled. “Get ‘em off me!”

  “Midnight moonbeams!” Mistress Pym cried. “It’s spreading! Millie, get over by Grumpkin. I’m going to have to douse you both.”

  Millie stumbled across the room to stand by Grumpkin. Mistress Pym waved her horn, tracing a water sigil in the air. “Sada,” she said, in a voice like thunder.

  A raincloud formed in the air above Millie and Grumpkin, and it opened up, drenching them both to the skin. The golden shimmer faded and then disappeared. The mosquitos fled the rain and dispersed. All of the mud and slime mold had washed off Millie, making a mess of the smooth stone floor.

  “I’m so sorry,” she told the Charms teacher.

  Mistress Pym glared down her horn at Millie. “Explain to me what just happened. I have seen many a charm go wrong, but I’ve never seen one corrupt other charms.”

  Millie stared at her sodden shoes. “I d-don’t know, M-m-mistress. I always get ch-charms wrong.”

  “And where did the honey come from?” Mistress Pym asked. “Did you bring some to class with you?”