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Authors: Stacy DeKeyser
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nodded. “Yes. I remember.”
Oma nodded too, which started her chair to rocking again. “The rat catcher is right. Our witch is not so crude as that.” She scowled again in thought. “And yet … only the witch has enough power to bring on such a curse.”
Rudi frowned in puzzlement. “Only the witch has enough power for such a curse … and yet it’s not her curse? What does it mean? Who else could be at work?” And then the answer came to him. “Her servant?”
Oma shuddered and shook her head. “Impossible. The only power he possesses is that which she grants him, and believe me: the Brixen Witch would never grant so much power to her servant.”
Rudi was beginning to understand why so many people learned to avoid the truth. The truth could be maddening and unpleasant. Still, he would not turn away from it. “What do we do now?” he asked.
Oma sighed. “There’s nothing to do but wait. Whatever is at work here, it likes giving signs. Rats. Thunder and lightning. Something tells me there will be another sign before too long.”
They sat in silence for a moment as the wind howled over their heads.
Then Oma stood, hobbled across the room, and opened the door to the fury of the storm. “There’s something more than the witch at work here.” She slammed the door against the night and turned to face Rudi. “You think the witch is trouble? She’s nothing compared with a menace we don’t know.”
“WE’VE BEEN robbed!” growled Marco the blacksmith. “I’ll go to Klausen myself if I must, and I’ll drag that swindler back to Brixen and shake every last penny from his pockets.”
“You’ll do no such thing,” said Otto the baker. “Herbert Wenzel performed the task we paid him to perform. You watched him with your own eyes.”
An emergency meeting had been assembled. Rudi guessed that half the populace of Brixen had packed itself into the village hall, while the other half (Mama and Papa among them) remained home to swat at rats. Now that the storm had passed, the vile creatures had returned to their nasty work, chewing whatever cheese, ham hock, or mattress they could find. And they seemed to be finding them all.
“Then where have these rats come from?” said Marco. “Can’t get rid of every last rat, he said. I say he left some behind on purpose, so we would call him back and pay him twice. I warned you this would happen.”
Arguments and discussions rippled through the crowd like wind through the trees.
“Nonsense,” said Otto. “Even if he left a few pairs of rats behind, how could they have overrun the town again in a matter of days? Not even rats are that busy.”
“So you’re an expert on rats now, are you?” said Marco, growing red in the face.
Mistress Tanner shook her finger at the blacksmith. “Have you forgotten last night already? That storm was the witch’s doing, and if you ask me, so are the rats. But all you can think of is money. I’d like to see you try and venture to Klausen while the witch is abroad.”
“Why shouldn’t I?” answered Marco. “I’ve done nothing to vex the witch. Has anyone here done so?”
There was a wave of muttering and emphatic head shaking. Only Rudi knew the answer to Marco’s question, but he could not find the courage to speak up.
The blacksmith continued. “Of course we haven’t. And yet she torments us. Rats. Storms. Why?”
Marco stopped in midbreath. His eyebrows bunched together. Rudi thought he could almost hear the rusty gears creaking inside the man’s head.
And then the gears clanked into place, and Marco’s face became a picture of triumph. “Of course! There can be only one reason for this new plague of rats. Herbert Wenzel is in league with the witch!”
The muttering erupted into gasps and exclamations. The mayor banged his gavel, but no one paid attention.
“Now see here!” said Otto the baker. “I’ve known Herbert Wenzel nearly my entire life. He’s no more in league with the witch than your
Oma nodded too, which started her chair to rocking again. “The rat catcher is right. Our witch is not so crude as that.” She scowled again in thought. “And yet … only the witch has enough power to bring on such a curse.”
Rudi frowned in puzzlement. “Only the witch has enough power for such a curse … and yet it’s not her curse? What does it mean? Who else could be at work?” And then the answer came to him. “Her servant?”
Oma shuddered and shook her head. “Impossible. The only power he possesses is that which she grants him, and believe me: the Brixen Witch would never grant so much power to her servant.”
Rudi was beginning to understand why so many people learned to avoid the truth. The truth could be maddening and unpleasant. Still, he would not turn away from it. “What do we do now?” he asked.
Oma sighed. “There’s nothing to do but wait. Whatever is at work here, it likes giving signs. Rats. Thunder and lightning. Something tells me there will be another sign before too long.”
They sat in silence for a moment as the wind howled over their heads.
Then Oma stood, hobbled across the room, and opened the door to the fury of the storm. “There’s something more than the witch at work here.” She slammed the door against the night and turned to face Rudi. “You think the witch is trouble? She’s nothing compared with a menace we don’t know.”
“WE’VE BEEN robbed!” growled Marco the blacksmith. “I’ll go to Klausen myself if I must, and I’ll drag that swindler back to Brixen and shake every last penny from his pockets.”
“You’ll do no such thing,” said Otto the baker. “Herbert Wenzel performed the task we paid him to perform. You watched him with your own eyes.”
An emergency meeting had been assembled. Rudi guessed that half the populace of Brixen had packed itself into the village hall, while the other half (Mama and Papa among them) remained home to swat at rats. Now that the storm had passed, the vile creatures had returned to their nasty work, chewing whatever cheese, ham hock, or mattress they could find. And they seemed to be finding them all.
“Then where have these rats come from?” said Marco. “Can’t get rid of every last rat, he said. I say he left some behind on purpose, so we would call him back and pay him twice. I warned you this would happen.”
Arguments and discussions rippled through the crowd like wind through the trees.
“Nonsense,” said Otto. “Even if he left a few pairs of rats behind, how could they have overrun the town again in a matter of days? Not even rats are that busy.”
“So you’re an expert on rats now, are you?” said Marco, growing red in the face.
Mistress Tanner shook her finger at the blacksmith. “Have you forgotten last night already? That storm was the witch’s doing, and if you ask me, so are the rats. But all you can think of is money. I’d like to see you try and venture to Klausen while the witch is abroad.”
“Why shouldn’t I?” answered Marco. “I’ve done nothing to vex the witch. Has anyone here done so?”
There was a wave of muttering and emphatic head shaking. Only Rudi knew the answer to Marco’s question, but he could not find the courage to speak up.
The blacksmith continued. “Of course we haven’t. And yet she torments us. Rats. Storms. Why?”
Marco stopped in midbreath. His eyebrows bunched together. Rudi thought he could almost hear the rusty gears creaking inside the man’s head.
And then the gears clanked into place, and Marco’s face became a picture of triumph. “Of course! There can be only one reason for this new plague of rats. Herbert Wenzel is in league with the witch!”
The muttering erupted into gasps and exclamations. The mayor banged his gavel, but no one paid attention.
“Now see here!” said Otto the baker. “I’ve known Herbert Wenzel nearly my entire life. He’s no more in league with the witch than your
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