“Then how do you get witches’ tears?” asked Ardent. “Bite them till they can’t help c-c-crying?”
“No,” said Anya. “I figured it out from my first vision. The reflecting pool was showing me something useful. The Dog with the Wonderful Nose could smell them growing underground, and the witches are cooks, so they use them. I think they’ve forgotten to get some, so I should be able to do a deal to give them some, in return for their tears.”
“Give them what?” asked Ardent. “Turnips? Potatoes?”
“No, onions,” said Anya. “I give them onions, and handkerchiefs to collect the tears they shed when they’re cutting up the onions. Then I wring the handkerchiefs out to collect the tears.”
“Good idea,” said the Wizard approvingly. “But I suspect they’ll want more than onions in return. Remember, I told you: Witches are usually very business oriented.”
“But I can’t get there in time anyway,” said Anya. “Their feast is tonight.”
“Well, we’ll see about that,” said the Wizard. “I might be able to help you there. Depending on which gift you choose.”
“Thank you,” said Anya. She looked down at herself. “Thank you for these clothes too.”
“Oh, that’s nothing. Not magical at all. They hardly count as gifts. But tell me, after you get the tears from the witches, which I have no doubt at all you will manage, what next?”
“We’ll go to New Yarrow,” said Anya. “And steal the rest of the ingredients from the League of Right-Minded Sorcerers!”
“And the Only Stone!” called out Shrub from under the table.
“No, just the ingredients,” said Anya. “I’m sure they’ll be less well guarded.”
“Bold,” said the Wizard, cutting her toast into five individual soldiers. She took another boiled egg and sat it on her eggcup. “But it could work. Ah, here come Danash and Holkern.”
The two dwarves had come out of the Wizard’s door, carrying a large and clearly heavy chest. They brought it over and laid it down between the Wizard and Anya.
“Let’s make sure this is the right one,” said the Wizard, bending down to lift up a cardboard label that was tied to one of the chest’s handles with multicolored string. “Ah yes. ‘Choices for Princess Anya of Trallonia.’ ”
She nodded to the dwarves, who threw back the lid …
Anya couldn’t help but crane forward. However, there were no astonishing magical treasures inside. Anya was disappointed and puzzled to see that the chest was empty, save for six small paper envelopes.
“Did I explain that it is a random choice?” asked the Wizard. “You pick one of the envelopes. You’ll get whatever is written inside it.”
“Can’t you just give me something that would be useful?” asked Anya. “I mean, I don’t want to be ungrateful—”
“Not allowed,” interrupted the Wizard. “Can’t interfere directly, you know. Even a random choice of a gift is stretching it a little bit.”
She bent down and picked up the envelopes, shuffling them clumsily. One fell on the table. The Wizard picked it up and put it with the others, then fanned them out. But the one she’d dropped stuck out more than the rest. Anya looked at it, then up at the Wizard, who flexed her eyebrows in a way that might or might not indicate anything.
“I can tell you what the choices are for you, and their flaws.”
“Please do,” said Anya eagerly.
“There is the Sword of Never-Ending Sharpness. I hope you don’t get that, because it is so sharp that only the highly trained can use it. I mean you can’t even put it in a scabbard; it would just cut through it, so you have to carry it very carefully. Fantastic sword, though.”
“Right … ” said Anya. She hesitated before asking, “If I do get the sword, or something else I can’t use, can I give it back?”
“I shouldn’t worry about that,” said the Wizard cheerily. “I’m sure you’ll get something just right.”
“Um, thank you … ah … what else is there, please?”
“The Buckler of Redoubtable Defense,” said the Wizard. “A small shield, just your size. It will intercept any blow aimed at you. The drawback being it moves very quickly, so unless you’re remarkably strong and flexible it might dislocate your arm or shoulder.”
Anya nodded, not daring to speak. The Wizard waited a moment, then continued.
“A Thirty-League Flying Carpet. This is a nice one, a big flying carpet, good for thirty leagues before it needs a rest.”
“What happens after thirty leagues?”
“It becomes just a carpet. Without the flying part. So you need to be sure you are on the ground before it reaches its limit.”
“How can you tell?”
“You can’t. The trick is to only use it from a point A to a point B that is less than thirty leagues away, leaving a good margin of error for a bad map or mistaken calculations. Or you can do a number of small flights, being sure the total distance is well under the thirty leagues. Then it needs to rest before you can use it again. Fly less than the carpet’s stated distance, then let it rest till midnight—that’s the basic rule.”
“Ah,” said Anya. “How far away is the hill in the Blasted Heath where the witches are?”
“No more than twenty leagues, I reckon,” said Bert from across the table. “I’m not sure as a crow or carpet might fly. But not more than twenty, in any case.”
“Carpets are also often temperamental,” added the Wizard. “Won’t fly on cold mornings, or in the heat of the day—that sort of thing. Even the best of them sometimes play tricks as well. You have to be sure to give them strict directions.”
“Flying would be fun, though,” said Anya.
“I wouldn’t call it fun.” The Wizard made a face. “Mostly itchy, closed in, and frightening.”
Anya looked at the Wizard, wondering what she was talking about. Why would flying on a magic carpet be itchy and closed in? But there was no further explanation.
“The fourth item is a Wallet of Inexhaustible Munchings and Crunchings.”
Ardent’s ears pricked up at this one.
“What does that do?” he asked the Wizard.
“It provides a rather indigestible biscuit three times a day.”