How to Stop a Witch (18 page)

“No, I don’t care much for salesmen at all,” the man elaborated. “Are they . . . dead?” Greg asked.

“Ah, heavens no,” said the man. “If they was, do you think they’d still be hanging there? Nope, soon as one of them dies, they pops off to who knows where to bother some other fella, and then I don’t need to worry about them no more. Until then, well, this is fun too, don’t you think?”

“But what did they ever do to you?” Priscilla asked.

“They didn’t need to do nothin’. They’re salesmen. That’s bad enough.” His eyes darted about. The wild look behind them would have proved he was mad, even if the sight of six swinging insurance agents hadn’t already done the trick.

“My daddy was a salesman,” he told them. “Always on the trail. Never had time for Mum or me at all. Well, I showed him now, didn’t I?” His wild eyes nearly bore into Greg. “I said, didn’t I?”

“Okay . . . sure.”

Kristin looked over the rail. “That’s horrible . . .”

“Yeah, I know,” said the man. “You can’t get a decent view at all from up here, but there’s nothing higher up I could tie ’em to.”

“No, I mean—oh, never mind. Let’s get out of here,” she whispered to Greg.

The man stepped into her way, his look of madness increasing. “Not so fast, little lady. I can’t let you pass. No, no, that wouldn’t do at all. What then would I eat for supper?”

Kristin flinched back. “I thought you said you weren’t a troll.”

“’Course. Do I look like a troll?”

“Then why would you want to eat us?” Greg asked, hoping to reason with the man.

“Well, I’ve got to eat something. These insurance agents don’t get it. Soon’s you roast one, he up and disappears on you.”

Priscilla stepped bravely forward. “Okay, look. We’re perfectly willing to pay to cross your bridge.”

“Pay?” he said, incredulous. “I don’t have no use for organs. Unless they’s tasty, of course.”

Greg noticed Priscilla’s legs shaking—or maybe it was just his vision, as his own legs were trembling plenty.

“I was referring to . . . hair,” said Priscilla. “Red hair.”

The man grimaced as if she’d suggested they pay with insurance agents. “You can’t eat hair. It just balls up in your stomach and makes you all sick. Believe me, I’ve tried.”

“No,” Lucky said, “you don’t eat it. You trade it for the things you need.”

“Like food?” said the man.

“Exactly.”

“You see anybody around here to trade with?”

A muffled groan emanated up from below the bridge.

“Ah, no.”

“’Course not,” said the man. “If there was, I’d’ve eaten ’em.” He raised his eyes to the sky and shook his head, as if tired of dealing with fools. “Okay, let’s get to it. It ain’t getting any less hungry around here, is it?”

“Wait, aren’t you going to ask us a riddle or something?” asked Kristin.

“Shh,” said Melvin. “Trolls don’t do that.”

“But he said he wasn’t a troll.”

“Quiet.” The man studied her curiously. “Why would I ask you a riddle?”

“It’s just something non-trolls do,” said Lucky, and then, being someone who’d spent his entire life beating the odds, he added, “It gives us a fighting chance of getting across the bridge alive.”

“Why would I want to do that?”

“Because it will prove to us you’re not a troll,” Greg said quickly.

“But I’m not,” the man insisted.

“Yes, and this will prove it.”

The man thought about this a while, raking his fingers through his matted hair, a pained expression across his face. “I don’t know any riddles.”

“I could give you one,” suggested Kristin.

The man thought a moment longer, then spun toward her, enraged. “What do I look like, an idiot?”

Kristin, who’d judged incorrectly on him looking like a troll, apparently knew to remain silent.

“Well, then we’ll ask
you
one,” said Melvin. “If you answer right, you can eat us. If not, you let us pass.”

“Melvin!” shouted the others.

“Don’t worry,” Melvin whispered behind his hand. “This guy’s obviously out of his mind.”

While the man was distracted, Priscilla tried to sidle past him, but he jumped into her way. “You didn’t ask me no riddle,” he reminded her.

“Okay,” said Melvin, “how did the dragonslayer lose his job?”

“He got fired,” said the man without a moment’s thought. “I guess I’ll just be eating you now, then.”

“No wait,” said Melvin. “That was just practice. How about this? Why did the dragon lose his taste for young maidens?”

This time the man considered for a full second. “I suppose because his food kept disagreeing with him.”

Melvin’s face blanched.

“These are too easy,” said the man, licking his beard.

“Yeah, but here comes the real one, all right?”

“Melvin,” Priscilla scolded. “This is serious. You’re gambling with our lives.”

“Yeah, well, he’s just been lucky so far. Wait till he hears this next one.”

“No, hold on,” said Priscilla. “Ask me first.”

Melvin scowled, but before he said anything out loud again he whispered something into Priscilla’s ear.

“You’ve got to be kidding,” the princess said, frowning. “He used his scales.”

Melvin frowned too, and whispered something else.

Priscilla rolled her eyes. “Because he’d never live to tell the tail. Come on, Melvin. This is important.”

“You think you could do better?”

“No, I’m not the one who goes around asking stupid riddles every five minutes. Greg, what about you? Do you know any good Earth riddles?”

Greg frowned. “No. The only one I know is, ‘Why did the chicken cross the road?’”

“Why did the chicken cross the road?” the man repeated. “Yes, why indeed, why indeed?”

“What? No, that wasn’t the riddle. We were just discussing . . .”

But the man started pacing back and forth determinedly, his eyes cast to the ground, trying to think. “This one doesn’t involve dragons at all, does it? No, I should think not. Chickens, of all things. Who ever heard of a riddle involving chickens?”

“Do you give up then?” asked Melvin.

“Hold on, give me time to think. There must be an answer.”

“Okay,
now
do you give up?”

The man stopped abruptly and looked to Greg. “How about a hint?”

“We’re talking about our lives here.”

“But, can’t you just . . . ?” He tugged on his hair and looked around, as if the others might help. “Not even one hint . . . any of you?”

Silence.

“Tell you what,” he finally said. “I’ll let you pass whether I get it or not. Just give me the hint.”

“Promise?” said Kristin.

“What do you take me for—some sort of troll?”

“No, of course not,” she said quickly. “So you’ll let us go then?”

“Yes, yes, just give me the hint.”

She glanced at Greg, who nodded to let her know it was okay.

“All right. It might have been asked, ‘Why did
we
cross the
bridge?
’”

The man thought a moment longer, raking his fingers through his hair again. “Still nothing to do with dragons. How should I know why you want to cross this bridge? I suppose to get to the other side. Why else?”

“That’s it exactly,” said Kristin. “To get to the other side.”

“You’re kidding?” he said, slapping his knee. “Really? You mean I got it? No, wait, what was it again?”

Greg could hardly believe the man was going to let them escape over such a stupid riddle, but he knew better than to hesitate too long. “Er . . . we need to get moving. You understand, right?”

“Huh? Oh sure,” the man said, waving them along.

Priscilla glanced at Greg, not believing either, but he motioned for her to go, and she wasted no time herding the others past the man and off the other end of the bridge.

“Hey,” the man called out to Greg. “You’re not thinkin’ of going through Dragon Horns Pass, are you?”

Greg stopped on the edge of the bridge and turned back to face him. “I think we are.”

“Well, either you is or you ain’t, which is it?”

“Okay, yes, we are.”

“Well, then it really didn’t matter whether I et you now or not, did it?” And with that he crawled back over the railing and disappeared beneath his bridge.

“What do you think
he meant?” Melvin asked as they quickly put some distance between themselves and the bridge.

“He was crazy,” said Greg. “I’m sure he didn’t know what he was talking about.”

“But it sounded like he didn’t think we’d survive our trip through the pass. Do you think he knows something we don’t?”

Of course
, Greg thought.
We don’t know anything
.

“Greg just said he was crazy,” Lucky told Melvin. “He didn’t know a thing.”

“But what if he did?”

“He didn’t.”

“Yeah, but what if he did?”

“We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it,” Greg said.

“This another one of your riddles?” Melvin asked. “Because that chicken thing was lame.”

“It got us over the bridge, didn’t it?” said Kristin. “Besides, how would a lame chicken cross a road?”

Melvin groaned and picked up the pace. As they left the danger of the non-troll behind, the tension began to ease. Soon the two girls started whispering and giggling. Apparently they’d forgotten that even if they did manage to cross the pass, and even if they were able to rescue Nathan, retrieve the Amulet of Ruuan, get back to the Styx
and
reach Pendegrass Castle in time to stop Witch Hazel, Greg was still destined to die.

At least, Greg hoped they’d forgotten.

“I’m hungry,” Melvin announced.

“Me too,” Greg admitted, “but we don’t have anything to eat, so try not to think about it.”

“We’re going to have to think about it soon,” Priscilla said. “I wonder if there are any more towns out here.”

“Don’t know,” said Greg. And he also didn’t know where they were going to find food if there weren’t. He was still contemplating the matter when the bushes rustled, and four men stepped from the brush, weapons drawn.

“Organ hunters,” Lucky warned, though in Greg’s opinion, far too casually.

One of the men was a full head taller than the rest. He waved away the thought. “No, no, we’re not hunting organs. We thought
you
were.”

“Us?” said Priscilla. “Why would you think that?”

“Your robes,” said another of the men. “You are sorcerers, aren’t you?”

“That’s right,” said Melvin, strutting forward. “What’re you gonna do about it?”

“Shut up, Melvin,” said Greg. “No, we’re not sorcerers,” he told the men. “We’re just dressed this way to keep away trouble.”

The tall man nodded uncertainly. “How’s that been working for you?”

“Hard to say,” said Lucky. “Who knows how much we’d have been attacked without them?”

The man chuckled. “I suppose you’ve got a point.” His face turned serious. “Lucky we stumbled upon you. Five youths like yourselves, wandering around lost in the these woods . . .”

“Who says we’re lost?” asked Melvin.

“You’re headed toward Dragon Horns Pass. You’re either lost, or you’ve lost your minds. No matter which, you’re lucky we found you. We can show you the proper way to Edmonton.”

“But we’ve just come from Edmonton,” said Greg. “We need to get to New Haven.”

“New Haven? Where on Myrth is that?”

Priscilla stepped forward. “It’s supposed to be five miles north of Old Haven.”

The man scoffed. “You can’t go to Old Haven. Why, to get there you’d have to go straight through Dragon Horns Pass.”

A brief murmuring broke out among the men.

“Apparently that’s a bad thing,” Kristin noted.

“Come,” said the second man. “We live not far from here. Perhaps after a good meal you’ll be thinking more clearly, and we can set you on a proper course.”

“But we need to rescue our friend,” Priscilla told him.

“Did he say a good meal?” Melvin whispered to Greg.

“I am really hungry,” said Kristin. The others agreed. Even Rake let out a growl from inside Greg’s pack, earning several concerned looks from the strangers.

It appeared they had reached an unspoken agreement, but Greg had seen enough of the Netherworld to be cautious.

“How do we know we can trust you?” he asked the men.

“You don’t,” the tall man answered. “But you’ve got to eat somewhere, and you won’t find any other food between here and Dragon Horns Pass.”

“Maybe they could ask some of the folks there to give them some organs to eat,” another said, and several of the men chuckled.

“Quiet,” said the tall man. “These fools have forgotten what it’s like to walk alone in an unfamiliar woods. They didn’t mean to scare you. I know you have no reason to trust us, but I give you my word, we mean you no harm.”

Seeing as Greg and his group really had no choice, they followed the men from a reasonable distance back to a small village called Edward’s Demise, a short march away. The whole way Greg worried they may be walking into a trap, but the men made no move against them, and Edward’s Demise appeared no more threatening than Edmonton had been. Most of the homes there barely managed to stand upright, just like those they’d seen in Edmonton. Also, just like in Edmonton, everyone living there was grossly disfigured in one way or another.

At least they were friendly. A one-eyed woman named Erin invited them into her home and offered them food. She offered to put them up for the night, too, which sounded wonderful to Greg. It had been a long time since he could sleep without needing to keep one eye open. Then again, when he saw how Erin had but one eye to keep open, he started to question just how safe they were in the small town of Edward’s Demise. Probably just as safe as Edward had been.

“We can’t stay,” he told her. “We need to reach our friend Nathan.”

“Why do they call it Dragon Horns Pass?” Kristin asked.

Erin placed a steaming bowl of gruel in front of her, observed Kristin’s frightened look and spoke in a soothing tone. “Don’t worry, child. They just call it that because of its shape. It has nothing to do with real dragons. We’re perfectly safe here.”

“Well, that’s a relief,” said Greg.