The woman seemed not to notice Elli and her friends, or at least she provided no such indication. She sat on her knees facing the fire, the glow from which danced delicately on her face and hands. Elli was about to politely announce their presence when the woman, as if she had expected them, politely invited them to sit around the fire and warm themselves. As the children ever so quietly walked toward the fire, Elli glanced back toward the stairs and noticed that, like Peterwinkle’s door earlier, they had disappeared.
The children sat close together around the fire across from the woman. Awkward silence ensued, and then Alex, without prompting, said, “Ma’am, we ah . . .”
“Shhh, Alex!” whispered Elli, firmly. Alex left his statement hanging, half-finished. “Don’t say anything,” Elli said to the others so only they could hear her. The three friends stared at Elli, waiting for her to do or say something. She did do something—saying nothing, making her companions anxious. Finally, the woman broke the silence.
“Please tell me who you are, from where you have come, and where you are intending to go,” she said, as if beginning a polite interrogation.
“We can’t do that, Ma’am, if you please,” Elli replied, just as directly, but with a note of respect for someone older, as her mother had taught her.
“I don’t know whether it will please me or not, but just the same I want to know who you are, from where you have come, and where you are going,” the woman said, in the same tone. Elli, as if fencing with the woman, repeated her own reply, and with the same tone.
“Suppose I told you I could help you—help you go where you want to go and do whatever you are intent on doing, perhaps even ensuring both your safety and the accomplishment of your mission? And,” she added following a long pause, “what if I told you that you will surely perish if you do not answer my questions?” said the woman, her tone now unfriendly.
“What does . . . does ‘paiwish’ mean?” Alex asked Elli, keeping his voice low.
“It means to die, Alex,” Elli, said, now staring straight into the eyes of the woman who, across the fire, was staring straight at Elli. The woman slowly lifted her left hand and, immediately, out from the shadows at the edge of the clearing appeared an animal, which was growling menacingly. It was an awful looking creature, not unlike a cross between a large snake and a badger. It had a long tail that was bare of fur and coiled tightly against its body. The creature was itself perhaps eight feet in length and covered in coarse hair, and had four pairs of legs—two pairs at the front and two at the rear, with each paw having numerous thin, curled and barbed claws. The head was nearly that of the badger, except that along with its badger-like ears and deep-set beady eyes, it had a very long and pointed nose and a pair of upper tusks that folded neatly over its lower lip. Blood from a recent kill dripped from its mouth and moistened its feet. The loud growl was more than merely threatening, but the creature did not appear to be about to attack—at least, not without a further order from the woman.
Elli never expected so great a challenge, or so great a decision, at the very beginning of the long journey. She had wondered to herself all along how she would respond when faced with such a crisis. Now, she was going to find out—and find out how the others would respond, too.
Beatríz, of course, could not see the beast, but she could hear and smell it, and her imagination was more than capable of filling in the missing pieces fairly accurately. Yes, she was terrified, but she knew she couldn’t survive the journey very long without finding sustained periods of relief from the fear and the crippling effects that almost invariably accompany it. She needed to assume the worst right now, and meet it head on, defeating her fear with courage, believing either she was going to die sooner rather than certainly later—or face the real possibility of death all over again, perhaps on numerous occasions, and go through the same terror.
Beatríz could, of course, decide to plead with Elli to be compliant with the woman, out of fear and against the express instructions from Peterwinkle, and so give into fear and thereby perhaps defeat the mission at the outset—and still be killed by the beast. If she could not control the consequences of her actions, she could at least control the actions themselves, and control was what she at this moment needed most. If she could defeat her fears now, then perhaps she could defeat them from that moment forth.
A new and wonderful sense of certitude and peace came over Beatríz. “Don’t tell her, Elli.”
Jamie, in the process of scheming a way of escape, also said, “Don’t tell her, Elli.”
All Alex could think about was protecting Elli. “If you twy to make Ewi die, I wiw stop you!” Alex blurted out.
Elli gripped Alex’s knee with one hand while she fingered the key through her shirt with the other. She knew the woman had complete control of the beast. “We will not answer those questions, Ma’am,” Elli said firmly, “and thank you for the hospitality, but it is now time for us to leave.”
Elli rose to her feet slowly, but without hesitation, and the others began then to get up as well. The growling of the animal increased immediately and markedly, as if before an attack.
“Wait. Please. Sit down again, dear children,” the woman said, more warmly than even her initial invitation, as if she were suddenly someone who knew them as family for a very long time. Ever so slowly, and with the deliberateness of having chosen to do so, rather than having been coerced, Elli and her friends sat down.
“I know who you are, Elli, and where you come from, and where you are intending to go, and what you are trying to do,” the woman said, with an attempt at reassurance in her voice.
But Elli broke in, demandingly, “Then why did you deceive us?”
“I cannot apologize, for that would mean being sorry for doing what I did; yet, I do feel terribly bad for having scared you so. But,” she added quickly and with emphasis, “I needed to be absolutely certain of who you are and that you would be able to withstand the awful—and what will most certainly be the continual—pressure to answer those questions or otherwise to tell the story about which you’ve been sworn to secrecy. Had you answered me, the mission would have been lost before it had barely begun.” She then added, but only after pausing to give weight to what followed, “Did I deceive you? Under ordinary circumstances, the answer would be an unqualified yes. But since I did so not for my sake, but for yours, the answer is no.”
As soon as the woman had begun to speak, the animal became silent. While speaking, the woman raised her right hand, and the beast retreated, hind legs first, back into the concealing shadows at the edge of the clearing. “Elli,” the woman said, “my name is Hannah, and you are now in the land of Bairnmoor, once ruled by Queen Taralina. It is ruled now by the one who deposed the Queen—Sutante Bliss, under the control of the Evil One.” Hannah then went on to tell her own version of the secret story, all of which was consistent with everything Peterwinkle had told the children.
“The source of all things, the Good, has chosen you for this incomprehensibly difficult and uncertain mission through the mouth of a messenger situated between the world you left and the world in which you now find yourselves. As with Peterwinkle, I do not know how you are to release the Queen. You will need the greatest of powers to undertake such a mission, and from where those powers will come, the Good only knows.
“But, among other valuable items, I have something to give you that could assist you on your journey. It is an amulet, Elli, to protect your hand in battle; but it is also something that will help you know the truth. If, for example, you want to know whether something being said is true, whether by you or another, the amulet will begin to glow. If the bracelet does not glow, then what has been said is either false or ambiguous. Ambiguity would exist whenever