Fortune's Fool - Mercedes Lackey [67]
The “old woman” made a sound between a snort and a giggle and pulled the shawl off her head, revealing a not-so-old woman. “That won’t be needed, Prince Sasha,” said the witch, in a perfectly normal and pleasant alto voice. “I don’t know why anyone ever bothers to test you anymore. You clearly expect every test we could give you.”
“No more do I know why you test me,” he said cheerfully. “But I like finding living folks on desolate roads, I like giving beggars something to eat, and I like witches. So as it’s about midday, do have some bread and cheese and share a meal with me. It’s very good bread. Another witch baked it for me.”
“Did she, then? Well good, thank you, I will.” She took the half of the loaf he had already stuffed with cheese and began making a hearty meal of it, while he tore open the other half and served it in the same fashion. “Well the warning I was to give you, if you passed the test, was that in order to get where you’re going, you’ll have to deal with Baba Yaga.”
“Hmm. That’s not good news,” he replied, starting on his own half. “In fact, I have to say that is very bad news indeed. Of all the creatures in the world that I would rather not meet, she is high on the list.”
“But she will have something you need if you are going to succeed.” The witch shrugged. “The saints only know what that thing is, I certainly don’t. It could be anything from a single pin to an elephant.”
The mental image of Baba Yaga riding an elephant made him blink, and he shook his head to clear it. There was such a thing as having too vivid an imagination.
“A single pin is more like, but you never know,” continued the witch.
“Anything else you can tell me?” he asked.
“Only that The Tradition is not happy about something that is north of here. Whatever it is, it’s an irritant now, and if it stays there it will become deadly as well as dangerous and we will all find ourselves in rather a pickle. Now you know everything that I know.”
He nodded. The witch was a very pleasant-faced, tall, thin woman of about late middle age. Unlike the illusion she had worn, she was not stoop-shouldered, nor were there more than a few streaks of white in her light brown hair. “In that case, may I give you a ride anywhere?”
She shook her head, and helped herself to his waterskin. “I live just off the road. I live in a rather nice, dry cave, actually. It’s been used by the witches hereabouts for generations. It’s warmer in winter and cooler in summer than any house I’ve ever had, and I never have to fix the roof. I share it with a bear.”
“A bear!” His eyebrows rose. He saw no reason not to take her literally. “That’s likely to keep you even safer than having a wolfhound!”
“And he is very pleasant company, when he hibernates, he is warmer in winter to curl up against than a dog, and in summer, he feeds himself. He is not a bear-man, but he is a Wise Bear. We get along.” She smiled. “Now, I wouldn’t turn down another loaf if you happen to have one to spare.”
“Even if I didn’t, I’d give you my last one,” he laughed. “But as it happens, I do.” He dug out another of the loaves, tight-wrapped in dried, tallow-soaked kelp, and handed it to her. “I came prepared. I had no idea how many of you kind ladies I would meet—or even how many genuine beggars.”
As he finished his meal, he was planning. Baba Yaga…She was the thing you frightened small children with, but she was one of the most deadly witches there was. The only thing that kept her from being a real menace to be hunted down by a Champion was that encounters with her were so infrequent, and took place only in the wilderness. And that she did as many good turns as she did vile things.
The trouble was she usually did the good turns to good little girls; he had never heard of her doing one for a young man.
Armed with the knowledge that he was about to encounter the dreaded witch Baba Yaga, he needed to change his plans.
If he was going to encounter Baba Yaga, the best thing he