But the rope wouldn't move.
Magnus closed his eyes and concentrated furiously on the knot. He felt it twitch, barely, but that was all. He gave up and sagged back on the bed, feeling the sweat of fear trickle down his cheek. What horrible spell had Phagia worked on him? And on his brothers and sisters, too, no doubt!
Then he remembered the supper—the vegetable stew that had tasted so wonderful, and that his sister had assured them had-contained no meat. What had it contained, though? What herb had Phagia discovered in her fifty years in the forest, that could dull the senses of a warlock and rob him of his powers?
Phagia was singing, some odd, irregular tune that slid up and down from one off-key note to another. Pots and pans rattled, and he heard a long creak of an unoiled hinge. He remembered the sound from supper—it was the oven door. He heard the scratch of flint and steel, heard the gentle gusting of the bellows, heard Phagia's giggle. "Warm, yes. Nice and warm, for the poor chilled children. And sauce. Young ones never like any meat, if it hath not a good sauce." And she broke off into the weird humming again, as liquid poured and a wooden spoon knocked against the side of a pot.
Her sarcasm chilled Magnus, the words and tone of a kind old granny contrasted with what she meant to do. He understood the evil sorcerer's curse suddenly and clearly—exactly what disgusting form of death Phagia's friends had met!
Cordelia. Gregory. He couldn't let them be killed, shoved into an oven for an old witch's gluttony!
Or an ancient sorcerer's revenge. It was Gregory's thought, so faint Magnus could barely understand it—and, in a sudden wave of understanding, he realized the youngest was right. She knoweth not what she doth, he thought as hard as he could.
Aye, certes, came Cordelia's faint thought. That glazed look in her eye—her soul's asleep! ■ - Only her body wakes, Gregory agreed.
'Twill suffice to make mutton of us, Geoffrey thought— harshly, to mask his fear. What can we do?
A shadow blocked the light from the kitchen, and Phagia came back in, crooning, "Ah, the poor wee lad! So chilled in his bed! Nay, he must be wanned ere the others." And she went across the room, to scoop Gregory up in her arms.
Sheer terror cut through the fog of drug, and Gregory howled through his gag as his mind shouted, Magnus! Cordelia! Geoffrey! Aid me!
Fear and rage galvanized his brothers and sister, and they thought blows against the old witch—but the drug dimmed their powers; Phagia only wavered as she stood up and turned, cradling Gregory in her arms. "Dizziness! Oh!" She stood still for a moment, eyes squeezed shut. Then they opened, and she smiled. "'Tis past. Now, lad—let us prepare dinner." And she hobbled toward the kitchen.
Magnus thought mayhem at her again, but she tripped on something more substantial—and, just as she tripped, something small and dark shot through the air and slammed into her shoulder blades. With a scream, she toppled…
And Gregory sailed out of her arms, straight toward the open oven.
His thoughts screamed as he stared at the oven in terror.
As one, his brothers and sister reached out with their minds to pull at him.
He slowed, coming gradually to a halt, mere inches from the oven door.
Magnus breathed a sigh of relief, then thought, Down, now, and slowly.
Gently, carefully, they lowered the little boy to the floor.
In the bedroom doorway, Phagia struggled to lever herself up off the floor. A small shadow loomed up by her head, slamming downward with a miniature hammer. It connected with a dull CLUNK! and Phagia slumped, with a tired sigh.
The small shadow chuckled, then looked up at Magnus. It was Kelly—and he sprang up to Magnus's bed and yanked the gag out of the boy's mouth. "Well, lad! Ye're safe, then— but 'twas a near one."
'Too near by half," Magnus agreed. "My deepest thanks, Kelly." He turned to the larger shadow. "And thou, Robin. Great thanks for fair rescue!"
"Great welcome," the elf replied, but his face was severe. "What could I have said to thy parents, had I brought thee home roasted? Yet, now!" He glowered at Magnus, then turned his head to glare at Cordelia and Geoffrey as the gags pulled themselves out of the children's mouths. "What have happed to thee, hadst thou not had thine elf nearby?"
"Death," Cordelia answered, round-eyed.
"True death." Puck nodded. "Not children's play, from which thou couldst arise and walk. Now, when next thine elf bids thee retreat from danger, what wilt thou do?" And he turned his glare on Geoffrey.
"We will heed thee." The middle boy gazed back at Puck with the weight of realization. "I will own, now—there be perils that be too great for children—even we four!"
"We will obey thee," Magnus agreed. "We will heed even thy doubts, Robin."
Puck glowered at them—but he couldn't maintain it; his seriousness frayed, and mischief gleamed through.
The children saw, and relaxed with a shaky sigh. "Eh, Puck!" Magnus cried, "we feared thou wert truly enraged with us!"
"Which did no harm, I warrant." Puck turned and went over to Cordelia. "What is this stuff that muffled thy thoughts, child? Doth it wear thin?"
"Let me try." She stared at the rope that bound her wrists. The ends twitched, then began to draw back out of the knot— but slowly, so slowly! "We do recover."
"Not quickly enow." Puck seized the rope and whisked the knot loose. "Unbind them, Tacky!"
"I'll thank ye to remember yer manners, Barkface," the leprecohen retorted. "If ye ever learned any, that is," but he poked long fingers into Geoffrey's bonds and untied him in a trice.
Magnus wrenched his hands loose and seized his dagger. He cut through the rope that bound his ankles and leaped up to go to his little brother—and stumbled, nearly falling; but he caught the door frame in time., He yowled at the pain of the tingling in his ankles.
"Aye, the blood is angry at having been dammed from its normal course," Puck agreed. "Patience; it will return."
"There's scant time for patience." Magnus hobbled over to Gregory. "She may wake at any moment."
"No fear," Kelly assured him. "I've still a hammer."
But Magnus had untied Gregory, and the little boy flung his arms around his big brother's neck. "There, there, lad," Magnus crooned. " 'Twas horrid, but 'tis done."
"Hammer or not, 'twould be well to be gone," Puck said. "I hate all housen in clear weather—and this one reeks of evil. Come, children!"
He turned away to the door, and Geoffrey and Cordelia followed him with a very good will. But Magnus sent Gregory after them with a pat on the bottom, then turned back toward Phagia, frowning.
Puck turned back too, nettled. "Nay, lad! Come away!"
"She's but stunned," Magnus answered. "I bethink me we need her to be senseless for a longer time."
Cordelia looked up, alarmed. "What dost thou, brother?"
But the eldest was staring at the witch.
"What doth he?" Geoffrey demanded.
Gregory touched his shoulder. "Peace. He pushes thoughts of sleep into her mind."
Geoffrey's face hardened with envy. Magnus had been able to project his thoughts for a year now, but Geoffrey still couldn't. He had better sense than to make a jealous fuss at a moment like this, though.
The witch's eyes suddenly snapped open in surprise. Then they blinked, several times. She stiffened in alarm, realizing what was happening to her—but Gregory and Geoffrey caught hold of Magnus's hands, channeling their own strength into him; and slowly, Phagia's eyes closed. Her body relaxed, and her bony chest rose and fell with the slow rhythm of sleep.
"Well done, my brothers," Cordelia murmured.