The Witch barely waited for the carriage to stop before letting herself out. Could she really so little stand to be around me? No innkeeper was waiting for us but the Witch went inside, so I followed.
An empty room with tables and a broad fireplace. Stairs up.
The Witch began to climb and again I followed; she snapped round and I felt the intensity of her glare through the veil. It was the first time she had acknowledged me in hours.
‘If I had required a dog to cling to my heels, I would have bought one. I trust you can look after yourself for one night?’
Not waiting for an answer, she stalked upstairs, long skirts trailing behind her. I stood at the bottom, dazed.
Outside, the carriage had disappeared, and there was no sign of our driver. The inn seemed to be empty, but on further investigation I found a table laid for one by the fireplace, a plate of boiled potato dumplings and thick slices of pork in a watery sauce waiting alongside a stein of beer. I thought at first it must have been meant for the Witch, but when she made no further appearance, I sat down and began to eat. I was tired, and in the space of a day I had torn my life into little pieces; suddenly I didn’t care about how the Witch might react or what I was expected to do. There was food and I was hungry.
Upstairs was a series of doors that were all locked save one, which opened onto a room freshly made up for a guest. Behind one of the other doors must be the Witch, but I did not know which one and I doubted she would respond to me if I went looking. My trunks waited for me at the foot of the bed so I went in. I locked the door behind me, ill at ease. Perhaps it was not so strange that there were no other travellers staying in such a remote inn at this time of year, but surely strange to hear no servants moving in the corridors, tending fires or delivering food and bags.
That night I lay like a still column under the bedding, one tallow candle burning as I could not bear the total dark. I listened for the familiar noises of the forest outside, but I heard nothing. Only a heavy, dull silence, as though I had been plucked out of time and lay in stasis while, somewhere beyond, the world continued without me.
I must have slept because I woke with the shutters open and a cold autumn sunlight filtering in. Fresh water was on the washstand, and a set of simple travelling clothes had been taken from my trunks and laid out ready for me.
A cold prickling sensation. Someone had been in my room while I slept.
In the corridor, I thought I saw the edge of skirts disappearing around a corner, the whisper of hushed voices. Perhaps the servants here were just as afraid of the Witch as they were in Blumwald.
Downstairs, breakfast was waiting, and so was she, sprawled on a chair by the stove, chin resting on her fist, face hidden behind her veil.
A pang of fear hit me. I pinched the inside of my arm until my thoughts quieted, then I made a bargain with myself: one action at a time.
All I had to think about was the present moment.
Walk across the room. Pull out the chair. Sit at the table.
Keep myself in the Witch’s favour, if such a thing existed.
I picked up my knife and fork and said, ‘Good morning. I see the snows have held off another day.’
She didn’t reply but I hadn’t expected her to.
I chewed mechanically, barely aware of what I was eating. The fear was worse this morning. The flashes of excitement I had felt at leaving home, being let into the secret of the Witch, had dissipated. Now all I could think was that I had given myself over to the monster that had stalked my home for centuries, and like a fool thought I was doing something brave.
Under the table I pinched my arm again.
Logic, that was the only way I could get through this. If she meant to kill me quickly, surely she would have done so already.
Fifty years. That was how often the Witch took people.
Perhaps we really were her companions, and when our lives ran out, she was lonely enough to take another.
In that light the Witch, slumped by the fireplace, seemed quite a different figure.
I tried again.
‘Do we travel much longer?’
‘No. I would have left already but it seems you sleep in.’
I considered the veil she still wore, despite the fact I had seen her face when we were bound. She didn’t want to be seen, yet she had a whole duchy ensnared in fear of her.
‘If you would rather not wear that any more, we could ride with the carriage blinds drawn,’ I offered. ‘Perhaps the journey would be more comfortable without it.’
I saw my mistake as soon as I made it.
