‘As far as means to an end go, invoking our parents’ weird devotion to the royals so that they’ll let us potentially save thousands of lives isn’t that bad, is it?’
‘Hmm.’ The cart’s wheel hits a loose stone on the road, which Hansel has to kick away before they start lugging it onwards again. ‘And why did we have to bring all these baskets, again?’
‘To make us more inconspicuous.’
Hansel casts another glance at the hundred or so baskets stacked high onto the laden cart. It doesn’t look particularly inconspicuous.
‘We’re going to look just like basket merchants, come to sell Mum’s wares at the craft market.’
‘Pretty sure at this point we are actually basket merchants, here to sell your Mum’s stuff at the craft market.’
‘Exactly! It’s making Mum some money and it’s a cast-iron disguise.’
‘I thought your main disguise was that bonnet?’
Daisy grins at him proudly from the edge of her straw bonnet. As Mrs Wicker warned, it really does draw attention to her more than it hides her.
‘They’re both cast-iron disguises,’ she says. ‘Or, one’s iron, one’s carbon, and together they make for a steel disguise.’
They trundle the cart along some more.
‘Because steel’s an iron-carbon alloy,’ she adds.
‘Yes.’
‘And it’s stronger than iron. Oh, listen to me, rattling on about the relative tensile strengths of different metals and alloys, like me and Gretel used to do in the old days.’
Hansel shoots her a fond glance. ‘It’s fine. I like it. It’s as if she’s still around.’
‘She’ll be able to come home, some day.’ Daisy’s expression lights up. ‘Maybe if we do manage to help the Citadel, we can get them to change their mind about witches and the Darkwood in general. It worked with the village.’
‘That might be a bit of a big ask for just the two of us,’ Hansel admits.
‘I suppose. We had help from all witches and Ogres and so on back there. Pair of us don’t even have any magical powers.’
Hansel furrows his brow. Not for the first time, he wishes he could tell her about his powers, but he doesn’t speak up. Not yet. Not now. He needs the time to be right. Crucially, he needs to pluck up more courage than he currently has.
‘And we need to concentrate on beating this Hydra I saw.’
‘Also, selling all these baskets,’ Daisy adds. ‘Ideally, Mum would like us to make her a profit of a hundred silvers on this lot.’
‘So we talked her from not letting you go at all into making her a load of money? And they say you’re the clever one.’
‘Oh, Mum’s shrewd. I thought that was a given. But she is also making sure the village defences are covered, as well as your chores on the farm, so it’s probably the least we can do. Anyway, these are really nice baskets. The Citadel guards will be expecting us to do well at market, so it’s all part of the disguise.’
Hansel smiles again. ‘As well as the bonnet.’
Daisy nods. ‘As well as the bonnet. Hats are underrated disguises.’
‘You really did bond with that weird little spider the other week, didn’t you?’
‘Oh, Trevor’s great.’ Daisy beams. ‘Present company excepted, I think he might be one of my favourite people.’
‘Somebody’s talking about me.’
‘Nobody’s talking about you, Trevor.’
‘Yes they are, I can sense it in my knees.’
‘Your knees?’
‘I have magically attuned legs. Probably from hanging out with you weirdos so much.’
‘And you just use your magic legs for sensing when you’re being talked about?’ asks Jack.
‘And other disturbances,’ Trevor tells Jack from his comfortable perch on Buttercup’s shoulder. ‘My legs were able to sniff out the Mirror. And Hansel. And… ooh. Something here. We just went over a line.’
Jack looks down. ‘Nope. Nothing here.’
‘Actually,’ says Gretel, looking at the map, ‘he’s right.’
Snow takes the map from her for a moment. ‘We just passed the most northerly point where my birds were willing to fly.’ She points at a blank section of the map. ‘This is us, right?’
‘Right.’
‘Officially in the northern witches’ territory,’ mutters Buttercup warily.
Gretel looks around herself. It’s still the same old Darkwood, as far as she can see. ‘Not exactly the great unknown, is it?’
Snow whistles a few notes. There’s a rustling from the canopy above their heads and the thicket beyond their feet. A couple of wood pigeons flutter down to a low branch, and a rat pokes its head out of a bush, to regard them with wary, beady eyes. The creatures don’t seem as docile as any that Gretel’s seen under Snow’s command before. These animals are skittish and fidgety. After a moment, the pigeons flap away again, and the rat scurries back under a root.
‘They’re resisting me here,’ says Snow quietly. ‘They’re too nervous to let me in. Their fear of predators is too strong; it overpowers everything else, even me.’
‘Snow.’ Buttercup looks aghast. ‘Your magic doesn’t work here?’
Snow looks faintly embarrassed. ‘Well…’
Jack’s eyes widen. ‘What if none of our magic works in other witches’ territory?’
‘How would that even make sense?’ asks Gretel.
Shakily, Jack tries his power out, flourishing a hand and curling up his fingers as if pulling an invisible rope from the ground. A stem sprouts from the undergrowth at his command, erupts to a good three feet and then unfurls fat fern fronds.
‘Oh,’ says Jack.
Buttercup picks up a pebble. It instantly turns into a cherry Bakewell.
‘Well, I never.’
‘I did just say that it wouldn’t make sense if none of your powers worked,’ says Gretel, aware that at this point she’s being ignored, as is usually the case when she breaks out the ‘I told you so’s.
A branch spins violently past everybody’s feet.
‘I can still do telekinesis,’ announces Patience.
‘Peter Piper picked a peck of pickled peppers,’ says Trevor. ‘Yep, still able to talk. Betty bought a bit of butter.’
‘So it’s only you who’s been… magically neutralised, Snow,’ frets Buttercup. ‘Oh, Snow, you poor thing. That’s not fair.’
‘Betty said, “This butter’s bitter.”’
‘I’m not “neutralised”, for pity’s sake! The animals are just all wrong here.’
‘“If I put it in my batter, it will make my batter bitter”.’
‘I’m still absolutely fine,’ argues Snow. ‘Still got my lads.’
‘Yummy…’ mumbles one of the Dwarves anxiously, and Gretel notices for the first time that even those usually carefree and ferocious creatures look on edge in this part of the forest.
‘So Betty bought a better bit of butter…’
‘Still got my axes,’ continues Snow, holding one of her many blades aloft, ‘and Trevor, would you stop that now? We get it, you can talk. Kindly do so a little less, for the sake of my sanity and everyone’s safety.’