A Witch's Kitchen Read online

  “Real raisins,” Millie assured her. “I got them in Pixamitchie.”

  “Where’s that?” Max asked.

  “It’s my village,” said Petunia. “It’s near the Sleeping Castle. A lot of pixies live in the briar hedge there, and there’s a group of centaurs who herd goats, and some fairies and leprechauns and gnomes. You know, the usual.” She shrugged.

  Millie nodded. “Mother and I live just outside the village. We shop in Pixamitchie for things like milk and cheese and butter, fruits and vegetables. I catch frogs and toads and fish with nets in the swamp in my backyard. A dwarf named Baragad brings a lot of our supplies by cart once a month, including most of Mother’s spellcrafting supplies,” Millie said.

  Max nodded. “Baragad supplies us, too, but with pretty much everything.”

  Millie cocked her head. “So you never go out shopping with your father?”

  “My stepmother does all the shopping, but she never takes me anywhere,” Max grumbled. “Dad takes me to the monthly wizard convocations, and occasionally we go visit another wizard, but otherwise, he keeps to his laboratory. It’s soooo boring. I bugged Dad mercilessly until he gave me the magic carpet for my birthday last month.” His face lit up. “Now I can really start exploring.”

  “Don’t you have any brothers to play with?” Petunia asked.

  Max scowled. “I have a stepsister, and she’s horrible. Always criticizing me and playing mean tricks on me and telling me I’ll never amount to anything.”

  Millie thought of the last Coven meeting. “Wait a minute. Who’s your stepmother?”

  Max looked surprised. “Didn’t Mother tell you? My father married Hepsibat last spring, and she and Cretacia moved in with us.”

  Millie jumped to her feet. “Aunt Hepsibat? Cretacia? But... but that’s terrible! No wonder M-m-mother’s been in such a bad mood.” She looked at Max with deep sympathy. “I can barely stand Cretacia at Coven meetings. I don’t know how you can stand having her around all the time.”

  “Well, I hide a lot,” Max grumbled, stuffing another scone into his mouth.

  “Ohhhhhhh...”

  Millie glanced at the far end of the table. The elf had dropped her scone. “Oh,” the elf moaned. “Ohhhhhhh!”

  “W-w-what’s wrong?” Millie asked. “Is it the scone? Is it t-terrible?”

  Tears were streaming down the elf’s face. “It’s wonderful,” she whispered. “It’s so, so wonderful. It reminds me of my mother’s elfcakes.” Suddenly, the elf jumped to her feet and ran away.

  “Oh, dear,” said Petunia. “Poor Sagara.”

  Millie was confused. “D-d-did I do something wrong?”

  “No, it’s not you,” Petunia told her. “Sagara’s father was killed in the Elf-Gnome Wars, and her mother has been missing for nearly three years. Some say she wandered into the Dragon Vale and was eaten by velociraptors. Others say she went into the Logical Realm and lost her magic.”

  “Is that why Sagara comes to school?” Millie asked.

  “Oh, no,” Petunia said. “She’s here because the elf school was fed up with her. All Sagara wants to study is arithmancy.”

  “The magic of numbers?” Max asked. “That’s tricky stuff, and not terribly elvish. Elves usually specialize in nature magic.” Max considered a fourth sandwich and the pile of scones, then glanced up at Millie. “You packed an awfully big lunch.”

  “Well, it’s my first day of school,” Millie said. “I thought perhaps sharing my lunch might help me make friends.”

  “Well, I’d say it worked,” said Petunia, who nodded at something behind Millie.

  Millie turned around and found a teary Sagara standing right behind her.

  “I’m sorry,” said Sagara. “I didn’t mean to run off like that. May I... um, may I have another scone? Please?”

  “Of course,” Millie said, handing her two.

  Sagara sat down gratefully next to her. “I’m sorry,” she said again, between bites. “I’d forgotten how much I missed my mother’s cooking. I live with my grandmother now, and she insists that cooking destroys the potency of your food. We eat everything raw.”

  Millie frowned. “That’s, um, interesting.”

  “That’s awful!” Petunia exclaimed. “It can’t be good for you.”

  Sagara shrugged. “It’s impossible to argue with my grandmother. She’s always right.”

  “She sounds like my m-mother.” Millie sighed. “I understand. My father is dead, too. He died when I was very little. Cooking yummy things helps me feel a little better. So don’t worry, Sagara. I can bring you scones every day if you like.”

  “Really?” Sagara smiled happily. “That would be wonderful. Oh, um, do you ever make things with chocolate?”

  Millie laughed. “All the time. Our house ghost Horace loves chocolate.” Which reminded her that Horace was still a frog, thanks to her chocolate.

  Max, about to stuff another scone into his mouth, paused. “Your house ghost. Eats chocolate.”

  Millie nodded, helping herself to some mushrooms. “Actually, it’s a big problem. Maybe you can help me...”

  The gong rang.

  “LUNCH IS OVER. PLEASE PUT AWAY YOUR LUNCHES SO THAT WE MAY CLEAR THE GLADE FOR RECESS.”

  All the students promptly picked up the remains of their lunches. Max nabbed one more scone, as did Sagara and Petunia. Millie took the last sandwich and packed her containers into her lunch cauldron.

  “Wanna play Freeze and Leap, Millie?” Petunia asked.

  “Oh, yes, thank you,” Millie said, standing up hastily before their chairs vanished, too.

  Max looked annoyed. “What about me?”

  “Sure, anyone can play. How about you, Sagara?”

  “Ha,” said the elf. “That’s a baby game. I’ve got better things to do.” Sagara sauntered off.

  As she did, Millie noticed a bunch of goblins and imps pull away from the crowd of students to block Sagara’s path. Sagara’s shoulders stiffened. She lifted her chin, turned, and tried to go around them, but the group spread out, blocking her again.

  “Uh oh,” muttered Petunia.

  “Snooty elf doesn’t wanna play,” one of the goblins said to Sagara. “She’s too good for us.”

  Despite being the same height, Sagara somehow managed to look down at him. “I have better things to do than bicker with you.”

  Grumpkin stepped forward. “Why don’t you go back to your uppity elf school? Oh, right, they threw you out.”

  “Reject, reject,” Titchy began chanting. The others took up the chant.

  “Like I care about your opinions,” Sagara said, but she had taken a step back.

  Millie rushed up to Sagara. “Come on, Sagara!” she said brightly. “You don’t want to miss the game, do you?”

  Grumpkin turned to her. “Oh, look. It’s the not-a-witch,” he said, grinning. “Of course you’d choose to be friends with the school’s biggest freak.”

  Petunia popped up beside them. “Hey, have you heard the latest news about the gnomes?”

  The goblins stared at her. “No,” one said shortly.

  “Of course not!” Petunia replied. “Gnome news is good news!”

  Several of the younger goblins and imps giggled. Grumpkin glared at them. “That’s sooooo old.”

  “How many trolls does it take to shoe a horse?” Petunia asked.

  “Before or after they eat the horse?” Grumpkin countered, but Petunia plowed onward: “Five! Four to put on the shoes, and one to lift the horse!”

  Several goblins guffawed, the imps giggling helplessly. Even Millie and Max started laughing.

  “Why can’t you borrow money from a leprechaun?” Petunia asked. “Because they’re always a little short!”

  “Hey!” yelled a nearby leprechaun as the goblins collapsed in helpless laughter.

  Even Grumpkin had started chuckling. Then he glanced around sharply. “Where’d that elf go?” Sagara had disappeared. Grumpkin stomped off in a huff.

  “Sheesh,” Max said. “Not even a thank you. That was pretty clever, Petunia.”

  Petunia shrugged. “That’s nothing. I was just getting warmed up. Now, do you want to play Freeze and Leap or not?”

  “I don’t know how to play,” Millie admitted. “Can I just watch this time?”

  “Suit yourself,” Petunia said, and she dashed off into the crowd, yelling, “I’m in, I’m in!” Freeze and Leap seemed to involve teams chasing players from other teams. If you touched someone from an opposing team, they were rooted to the spot and could not move unless another player leaped over them. There seemed to be other rules involving turning invisible, teleporting from place to place, casting illusions, and flying, but Millie couldn’t really figure them out. The teams largely formed along race lines, though the pixies and fairies were working together, as were the dryads and sprites. The goblins, imps, and bogeys formed one large team. Gnomes and brownies formed another.

  Millie noticed Max standing beside her, looking just as confused. “You’ve never played before, either?” she asked.

  “No, I’ve played with Cretacia and her cousins,” he said, “but when I get caught, I get pummeled or turned green or covered with warts.”

  Millie winced. “Cretacia has a gift for warts.”

  “That reminds me.” Max turned to her, lowering his voice. “Please don’t tell Mother or any of the other witches that I’m here.”

  “What? Why not?” Millie asked, startled.

  Max lowered his voice to a whisper. “Because they don’t know I’m here. I forged my entrance papers.”

  “Why would you do that?” Millie asked.

  “When Dad told me you were coming to school, I knew it was my chance to come see you. Besides, I’d do just about anything to get away from Cretacia,” Max told her. “She’s horrible! She constantly plays nasty pranks on me. She tells me I’m a useless, hopeless, miserable excuse for a wizard.”

  “I know,” she said. “Cretacia d-d-does the same thing to me at every Coven meeting.” Millie suddenly pulled Max into a hug. She felt Max sag with relief.

  “Then you do understand.” He hugged her back. “She makes my life unbearable. I’ve had to get very good at wards and security enchantments to keep her out of my room. I spend most of my time hiding from her.”

  “Have you told your father? Why doesn’t he put a stop to it?”

  Max sighed. “Dad says that every wizard has to learn to cope with witches and that this is a good learning experience for me.” He pulled back and looked at Millie desperately. “But he doesn’t understand how bad it is! Cretacia is very good at covering her tracks. Half the time, she makes it look like it’s all my fault! So when Dad mentioned that the Forest Council was asking for wizards to go to school, I sneaked into his laboratory and forged the papers.”

  “Why didn’t you just ask him if you could go?”

  Max pulled away from her and held up three fingers. “One: my father wants me to have a normal wizard’s education, which seems to consist of an occasional lesson and then ignoring me the rest of the time. Two: my stepmother would never let him live it down. Three: Cretacia would know where I am.” He glanced around nervously. “You don’t know what she’s capable of. So please, please don’t tell Cretacia.”

  Millie nodded solemnly. “Never. I promise.”

  Max searched her face, then slowly smiled. “Thank you.”

  “But,” said Millie, “won’t your family notice you’re gone all day?”

  “Cretacia will notice eventually,” Max said, “but since I spend most of my time hiding from her, it should take her a while to become suspicious. As long as I show up for breakfast and dinner, no one will have any idea.”

  “And when they do find out?” Millie asked.

  Max stared at his toes. “I don’t know. I’m hoping I’ll have learned so much here that I’ll be able to convince my father that it’s worthwhile. But if that doesn’t work... well, at least I’ll have escaped for a little while, and,” he glanced at her, “I’ll have spent some time with my sister. By the way, I’m pretty sure your father isn’t dead.”

  Millie was shocked. Her mother had told her, clearly and firmly, that her father had died before Millie could walk and that there was no point talking about it. “Why do you think that?”

  Max shrugged. “I could be wrong, but my dad talks about your dad like he’s still alive.”

  “Your father knew my father?” Millie sucked in a breath. “Could... could you ask him? I don’t know anything about him, not even his name.”

  “It’s Dean,” Max told her. “Dad has mentioned him a few times. I’ll try to find out more, but I’ll have to be careful. If I get too curious, he’ll want to know why I’m asking.”

  Millie swallowed her excitement. Max was probably wrong. Why would her mother lie about her father being dead? But it would be nice to know more about her father. “I understand. Anything you can find out would be great.”

  The gong sounded again.

  “RECESS IS OVER,” Quercius announced. “PLEASE PROCEED TO YOUR CLASSROOMS. MAX AND MILLIE, PLEASE REPORT TO HEADMISTRESS PTERIA.”

  Amounting to a Hill of Beans

  Max and Millie climbed back up the stairs to the Headmistress’s office, where Pteria was waiting for them.

  “Please be seated, children,” she told them. “I have the results of your examinations.”

  Millie crossed her fingers and tried hard not to squirm in her seat.

  “First off, let’s start with your strengths,” said the Headmistress. “Max, you are advanced in spoken spellcraft and security magic. Millie, your linguistic skill is impressive, and you have extensive knowledge of spell components.” She gave Millie a slightly puzzled smile. “I am surprised that you know so little healing magic, since that is your mother’s specialty.”

  It is? Millie wondered. Bogdana was frequently called on to perform healing magic on the residents of Pixamitchie, but her mother always complained about having to treat her patients, as though it were a distraction from her real work. Millie had always assumed that healing potions were just a sideline for her mother.

  “However,” Mistress Pteria went on, “you are both shockingly ignorant of the history and cultures of the Enchanted Forest and the Realms in general. I am afraid you will both have to take Remedial History.”

  Pteria reached into a cabinet and took out two vials. She handed one to Max and one to Millie. The label on the vial read Remedial History.

  “Interesting,” said Max, leaning forward. “Liquefied information?”

  Pteria looked pleased. “I brewed them myself. Now drink up.”

  Millie hesitated. Her mother had warned her again and again never to drink a potion not made by Bogdana herself (especially not any Millie had made), but Baba Luci had sent her to school and so must have trusted Headmistress Pteria. Besides, she had so many questions about the Enchanted Forest and the other Realms. Next to her, Max had already gulped down the contents and closed his eyes. Millie pulled off the stopper and drank.

  For a moment, she felt perfectly normal. Then an image formed in her head, a map of the Enchanted Forest. It was beautifully detailed. She could see Pixamitchie, where Petunia lived, the Faerie Vale, the dwarf mines to the east, the Centaur Flats, the Sylvan Woods where dryads and fauns lived, even a small speck marking her own home.

  She saw another map, this one of the Dragon Realm. Another, the Celestial Realm with its k’ilin and kami. The Realm of Infinite Sands, djinni and sphinxes. The aquatic realm of Atlantis, and more and more. They flashed through her mind, and with them, histories unspooled themselves in her head. The Three Hundred Years’ War. The War of Dragonkin. The convoluted and improbable history of the Logical Realm. The Sundering, when the many Realms were formally separated from the Logical Realm, removing all magic from that strange, human-dominated place. The Great Accord.

  Images and information flashed faster and faster in her mind, so much that Millie couldn’t grasp it all. It was too much, she felt like she was drowning. Just as Millie opened her mouth to scream, it stopped.

  “Oh!” she said, opening her eyes.

  Pteria smiled at her. “Easy now. That was rather a lot to take in all at once.”

  “Oh!” said Max beside her. “That was marvelous! I never knew that our great-great-grandfather was involved in the Great Accord.”

  “Indeed he was. Another day, I will tell you all about it,” Headmistress Pteria said. “Now, however, you should proceed to your assigned classes. Max, you will be joining Mistress Numina’s third level class. Millie, I’ve assigned you to Master Augustus’s fourth level class for the time being.”

  “Oh,” Millie said sadly, just as Max asked, “We won’t be in the same class?”

  “Not every day, no,” the Headmistress told them. “But you will both take Elementary Potions with Mistress Pym and Thaumaturgy with Master Bertemious. Here are your schedules.” She handed them each a sheet of parchment. “During that time, Quercius and I will monitor your progress. After that, we may adjust your classes.”

  Millie looked at her schedule:

  Onesday

  8:30 – 9:00 Morning Meeting

  9:00 – 10:30Reading Group

  10:30 – 11:30Scrolls & Inscriptions

  11:30 – 12:30Lunch and Recess

  12:30 – 1:30Forest Cultures

  1:30 – 2:30 Nature Study

  2:30Dismissal

  * * *

  Twosday

  8:30 – 9:00 Morning Meeting

  9:00 – 10:30 Independent Work

  10:30 – 11:30 Math & Arithmancy

  11:30 – 12:30Lunch and Recess --

  12:30 – 1:30Elementary Potions

  1:30 – 2:30Exercise and Health

  2:30 Dismissal

  Threesday

  8:30 – 9:00Morning Meeting --

  9:00 – 10:30 Reading Group

  10:30 – 11:30Charms & Enchantments

  11:30 – 12:30Lunch and Recess --

  12:30 – 1:30Forest Cultures

  1:30 – 2:30High Mystery

  2:30 Dismissal

  Foursday

  8:30 – 9:00Morning Meeting --

  9:00 – 10:30Independent Work