“Fairy gold,” interrupted Manythanks. “It lies about, waiting for a Fairy to pick it up on her way to the human world. You must have had some gnome ointment gobbed on you or you wouldn’t be able to see it at all. Some things any old ravished child can see. Some things are only meant for locals.”
“Yes, Betsy… she showed me Rupert, but then she threw that stuff at me, too.” September clutched her sceptre a little tighter.
“She must have taken a shine to you. I assume Rupert was very terrible and frightening? A good scare will knock your eyeballs sideways enough to see a few brownies. But not enough for Fairy gold and other things besides. Else playing tricks on tourists would not be half as fun.” The wairwulf sighed heavily. He had little wrinkles at the corners of his eyes. “But there’s rationing these days, and gnomestuff is precious. Have you got any left?” Manythanks peered at her eyes and sighed in disappointment. September did not like being examined so closely.
“I’m very hungry, Sir Wulf,” she whispered hopefully. “Is that soup?”
“Don’t you dare!” breathed Goodbye. “It’s our spell, and you can’t have any.”
September brightened a little. This was what she had come for: witches and spells and wairwulves. “What sort of spell?”
All three looked at her as though she had asked what color a carrot is.
“We’re witches,” said Hello.
Manythanks pointed meaningfully at his hat.
“But witches do all kinds of spells-”
“That’s sorceresses,” corrected Goodbye.
“And magic-”
“That’s wizards,” sighed Hello.
“And they change people into things-”
“That’s thaumaturgists,” huffed Manythanks.
“And make people do things-”
“Enchantresses,” sneered Goodbye.
“And they do curses and hexes-”
“Stregas,” hissed both sisters.
“And change into owls and cats-”
“Brujas,” growled Manythanks.
“Well… what do witches do, then?” September refused to feel foolish. It was hard enough for a human to get into Fairyland. True stories must be nearly impossible to get out.
“We look into the future,” grinned Goodbye. “And we help it along.”
“Why do you need lizards and buttons for that? And such nice clothes?”
“Look who’s a witch now?” mocked Hello, snapping her book shut. “What could you know about it? The future is a messy, motley business, little girl.”
“We have to dress well,” whispered Goodbye, “or the future will not take us seriously.”
Manythanks put his hands out to his wives. “She’s just a child. We were once children. She knows nothing of the future. Be kind. We can afford to be kind to this one when there is so much ahead of her.” Manythanks reached into his pocket and took out a fat bundle wrapped in wax. He unwrapped it corner by corner, slowly, as if revealing the vanished dove at the end of a magic trick.
Inside was a thick slice of deeply red cake, so moist it wet the paper, slathered with rich red icing. It glowed in the slight gloam of the seaside. The wairwulf bent down to her, the black tails of his suit whipping in the wind, and offered it, balanced delicately on one flat hand.
September tried not to snatch it too fast. She swallowed it in three wulfish bites, so starving was she. But hadn’t the Green Wind said something about eating Fairy food? Well, reasoned September, this isn’t the same thing at all. It’s witch food.
“I don’t suppose,” gulped September, when the cake had settled in her belly, “that you would tell me what was ahead of me, so I could look out for it.”
“Hello, I believe we have an utterly unique specimen on our hands: a child who listens,” Goodbye said, laughing. Goodbye laughed a lot.
Manythanks shook his head. “That’s really more a seer’s business, love-”
“I’d be happy to show you your future, little one,” interrupted Hello, but her voice was dark. The witch dipped her bare hand into the gurgling, boiling soup of the cauldron. She hauled out a handful of lumpy muck, the color of bruises and jam gone off. She flung it at the earth, where it steamed and wriggled and reeked. All three witches peered at the gob intently. Mankthanks poked at it with a neatly trimmed fingernail. It quivered. The sisters looked meaningfully at one another. September tried to peer as well but did not feel she had the hang of it.
“My future looks lumpy,” she said uncertainly.
Goodbye broke ranks with her family and swooped around the great cauldron, kneeling before September. The witch suddenly looked very beautiful, her pale hair swept back, her eyes dark and bright. September did not remember her looking so beautiful before, when she was stirring the pot. But now, Goodbye’s face fairly glowed, her lips perfectly rose-colored, her cheeks high, aristocratic, even blushing a little. “September,” she breathed. Her voice was pure honeywine, warm and deep and sweet. “That’s what you said your name was, yes? I prefer October, myself, but it’s such a pretty name. Your parents must have loved you very much, to give you a name like that. Do you like my name? It’s unusual, like yours.”
“Y… yes.” September felt odd. She wanted to please Goodbye very much-but more, she wanted Goodbye to like her, to love her even and tell her more about how much they were alike. The witch laughed again. But now it was a long rippling laugh full of notes, almost a song.
“My sister has no shame at all, September,” Goodbye continued. “That’s a very secret thing she did-right in front of you! You see, the future is a kind of stew, a soup, a vichyssoise of the present and the past. That’s how you get the future: You mix up everything you did today with everything you did yesterday and all the days before and everything anyone you ever met did and anyone they ever met, too. And salt and lizard and pearl and umbrellas and typewriters and a lot of other things I’m not at liberty to tell you, because I took vows, and a witch’s vows have teeth. Magic is funny like that. It’s not a linear thinker. The point is if you mash it all up together and you have a big enough pot and you’re very good at witchcraft, you can wind up with a cauldron full of tomorrow. That lump of greasy, slimy goop is a prophecy, and my sister cast it for you.”
“What does it say?”
Goodbye smiled like a sun rising. “Oh, so many things, September, if you know how to look. Would you like to know how? Would you like to be able to divine the meaning of that blob there, the color of mashed potatoes, or that vein of jelly? Would you like to be a witch?”
“Witchery is a life of wonder,” said Hello, “all the wheeling stars at your command, all the days of the future laid out before you, like dolls in bronze armor!”
“And a really top-notch hat,” added Manythanks.
“The Marquess has a fine hat, too,” said September, shaking her head to clear Goodbye’s sudden perfume. “I’ve been told.”
Their faces darkened a little.
“Well, I’m sure we’ll all be wearing tweed trousers by fall,” Goodbye snapped sarcastically. She shut her eyes and shook her head. When she opened them again, they were once more pools of deep violet, glistening with promises. “But we were discussing your prospects, my dear. For as much as I would like to bring you into my coven this very day, something bars me from accepting such a charming, polite, intelligent young ward. For a witch is nothing without her Spoon, and the Marquess stole mine years ago, because she is capricious and selfish and a brat.”