Peter & Max - Bill Willingham [34]
“Now, what would you like to ask me, Peter?” Totenkinder said, once Beast had left. She looked up from her work long enough to face him this time.
“You’re her, aren’t you? You’re The Witch?”
“That’s what they often call me when they think I can’t overhear.”
“Yes, but that’s not — what I mean to say is, you’re the specific witch, the one who lived in the Black Forest back when my brother and I were lost there so long ago. You were the one who armed Max. You gave him the other magic flute — the more powerful one — which caused all of our problems. I’ve read all the books available and studied the matter extensively, for as long as I’ve been a member of the community, and I’m certain I’ve narrowed down the possibilities to one candidate. You.”
“Straight to the point, aren’t you, Peter? I’m not used to being spoken to with such unsoftened candor.” She paused for a time and they looked at each other. His expression showed expectation, worry and under that a contained anger. Hers revealed nothing. Then she said, “Yes, I’m that same woman, but those were pre-amnesty deeds, and you’re not supposed to speak of them.”
“How could I not? You nearly destroyed us with what you did, not just me and my family, but all of Fabletown back during the Great War. Bigby only killed indiscriminately, but you — how could you do such a thing?”
“If you imagine you deserve an answer, strictly by virtue of the way in which you’ve suffered, then you’re mistaken. I’ve never been answerable to anyone in my long life, and it will ever be so. Be careful, young man, whose toes you tread on.”
“However,” she continued, “though I judge myself obliged to say nothing, I am at rare times willing to explain a thing or two to those who come to me showing proper humility and deference, and who ask their questions politely. Why don’t we assume, just this once, and only for the sake of expedience, that you conducted yourself in just that manner, hmm? That will save a bit of time, won’t it?”
She returned to her knitting for a few moments, gathering her thoughts. And then she said, “Like so many of us, I wasn’t always the same woman I am now. Once I too was ruled by my passions, and I made mistakes — some that I’ve lived to regret. In your brother’s case I made two mistakes. I misjudged the level of depravity to which he’d sunk, and I underestimated the powers of the object I gave him. I used him to work a revenge against some people who’d done me wrong, giving him the magic flute as his weapon with which to accomplish it. But the flute wasn’t something I created. It came into my possession, following several misadventures involving its previous owners. Many of the more powerful things find their way to me over time. It’s one of the byproducts of the way in which I work my craft. I hadn’t sufficiently studied Max’s flute before I turned it over to him, thinking I had the power to call it back to me at will. Who could know how strong his will had become by then?”
“Then what do we do?” Peter asked. How do I beat it — its power?”
“I don’t imagine you can. I tried once and I couldn’t. Max and his flute have grown strong together over the ages, the power of one intertwining with the other, until they’ve become so much more than the sum of their parts. He’s woven such shields and wardings of protection around himself that nothing mundane can harm him and, so far as I’ve tried, nothing much magical either. But I fear that he can play a spell now that will make anyone dance to his tune.”
“That’s as I thought,” Peter said.
“And yet you still have a plan to win against him?”
“No, I have a plan to finally let myself be defeated by him, once and for all. I’ve had my fill of hiding from him. So, instead I plan to embrace his terrible magic and let it do its will with me. Perhaps, after all that’s been done, I still owe him that much.”
Peter left before the tea arrived.
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