The witch—as the inn keeper told it—lived above a small shop on the west side of town, nearest the lake. Hers was an old, crooked building, perhaps the oldest in all of Tochtli, that sat on the boundary line between town and not-town. Which was a strange place for a shop to be, but Cricket supposed that perhaps there had been more buildings there at some point and they'd all just fallen whereas the witch's had remained.
Magic hung in the air like petrichor, earthy, and damp. Different from the magic that had always clung to Cricket which seemed to smell a little cleaner, a little less muddy, more like the river at midnight.
"Well, this is the place," Ignacia said, and moved forward to peek in through the front window. Cricket stepped up beside her, his hands cupped around his eyes to cut the glare, but it did nothing to help them see inside. For in front of the window was a bookshelf that was so full he'd be surprised if any light got through at all.
Cricket pulled back and smiled at the crooked open sign, swaying on the door. "It looks like they're open, we should just head in."
"What if she's dangerous? What if she cursed the town?" Ignacia crossed her arms over her chest, her hip cocking out to the side.
"Then we'll go in slowly?" Cricket asked. It did nothing to move Ignacia, who stood firm, an unimpressed look on her face. "Iggy, it's already three. We really don't have time for this."
"Fine." She sighed. "But I'm going in first."
"Right. Right. Of course." Cricket rolled his eyes.
She held up one hand, the other resting on her sword at the ready, then stepped inside. Cricket watched as she looked this way, and that, the hand she'd held behind her to keep him from following urged him forward. He followed behind her, his own hand falling to his sword just in case. What he found inside was piles upon piles of books. All stacked to the ceiling, and teetering just enough that one wrong move would bring the lot of them down onto Cricket and Ignacia's heads. In the center of the room right under a skylight (which was strange because wasn't this building two stories?) sat a rough wooden work bench littered in glass jars of varying shapes and sizes. Some of them were glowing, others bubbling, and others still seemed as if perhaps they weren't wholly there at all.
"Hello?" Cricket called softly, his eyes bouncing this way and that, searching for any sign of movement aside from the gently swaying stacks of books. There didn't seem to be anyone there. "Maybe they're upstairs?"
The door, finally reaching that particular point which all doors reach before they inevitably give up staying open, slammed shut behind them. Someone yelped from behind the work bench. Then the hat, which to this point Cricket had just assumed was sitting on a stool, jerked upwards. A young face peered at them, a boy, not more than thirteen with dark circles under his eyes.
"You're not the town witch," Ignacia said, accusingly as she sheathed her sword.
"I am." The child sat up straighter, jutting out his chin in offense.
"No. The town witch is an old woman." Ignacia's eyes narrowed on the child, and Cricket stood up straighter to get a better look at the youngster. He certainly looked like a witch. He had the pointed hat, and the cloak, and all. But the hat didn't fit quite right, it kept sliding down over his brow, and he was swimming in the cloak.
"Who told you that?" His voice cracked, lips pursing almost in a pout.
"The inn keeper." Cricket stepped closer, his hands folding behind his back, and a winning smile splitting his lips. "You must be her young apprentice."
The boy's shoulders sagged, and he slid from the stool. When he came around to greet them the cloak, which was being held around his neck by a rather ugly brooch, dragged the ground. It looked like he hadn't yet hit his first teenage growth spurt, Cricket wagered if they gave it six months he'd sprout up like a beanstalk. It was hard to see his eyes under the wide brimmed hat in the low lighting, but Cricket could feel keen eyes looking them over and trying to decide if they would cause him trouble.
"You're the prince," the boy said, tipping his head back so he could look up at Cricket and meet his eyes properly.
"I am." Cricket chuckled. "And who, may I ask, are you?"
"I'm Abner." Abner's tone said that this was an obvious fact, and that Cricket had obviously been living under a rock for not knowing it.
Ignacia snorted, rolling her eyes.
"I'm Saoirse's apprentice. And who are you?" Abner asked, scathing. His head tilted up and down as if he were looking Ignacia over, the hat wobbled and nearly covered his eyes in the process.
Ignacia opened her mouth, no doubt to say something equally cutting, but Cricket beat her to it. "It's very nice to meet you Abner. This is Ignacia, my dear friend."
"Friend?" The word came out strange, like Abner wasn't quite sure what it meant. Like he was trying to fit two pieces of a puzzle together only they were both corners and it was a 5,000-piece puzzle.
"More like babysitter," Ignacia mumbled. Cricket nudged her, and shook his head a little. She huffed, but fell silent.
"Yes, friend. Iggy and I have been friends since I was little. Right, Iggy?" Cricket draped his arm over her shoulder, pulling her into a one-armed hug.
"Right." Abner sounded skeptical, which may have had something to do with the annoyed shove Ignacia gave him to end the hug. But that was neither here nor there. "What do you want?"
"Ah, straight forward. I like a person who doesn't beat around the bush!" Cricket laughed. He dug around in his satchel to pull out Ignacia's journal. He'd likely have to buy her a new one in the next town, but he'd cross that bridge when he came to it.
"What do you want?" Abner asked again, annoyed. "I have work to do."
Ignacia's hand twitched for her sword, the lines of her face going pinched. Cricket had to cut her off with a little wave before she could ruin Abner's very fine hat for insulting the prince.
"Of course. Of course. But perhaps you could spare some time for the crown prince of Lunette. We only have a few questions. I promise we'll be brief." Cricket offered the boy his most dimpled smile, it always worked on people in the palace. Why shouldn't it work now?
Abner sighed the sigh of a teenager who was very bored and annoyed with old people (which was to say anyone more than two years older than themselves). "Fine. But I'm going back to my work."
"Splendid!" Cricket cheered. He followed Abner back to the bench, fingers twitching to move some of the jars aside and make a space for himself, but stopping mid-movement at a sharp look from Abner. "Right. No touchy."
"What do you want to know?"
"Where in the name of Styx is your mistress?" Ignacia all but snarled over Cricket's shoulder. Abner twitched, shoulders straightening in irritation. But to his credit, he didn't growl back at Ignacia as some might have done.
"She left two days ago to visit her sister in the capital. I was left in charge."
"When will she be back?"
"A fortnight, she said. But I never really know with her. Sometimes she stays for a whole month. Is that important?" Abner sounded annoyed again, and that wasn't good. Cricket wanted him relaxed, open, willing. Cricket swatted Ignacia lightly behind his back.
"No, we're just curious." Cricket perched the journal on his knee and jotted all of this down. The fact that all of this had started soon after the town witch left was suspicious, but not altogether worrying. It could have been a coincidence. "There have been some reports of strange things occurring in town. You wouldn't happen to know anything about that would you?"
Abner shrugged, but his head ducked lower, hiding his face almost entirely under the brim of the hat. "I don't know anything about all that."
"Of course. You're just being a good apprentice and holding down the fort, right? Staying out of trouble, and maintaining whatever spells Saoirse left." Cricket nodded in understanding. "Filling any outlying orders and all that. It's a big responsibility."
"It is!" Abner brightened, looking up at Cricket and meeting his eyes. "It's such a big responsibility!"
"Of course, it is. And you're doing a fine job, aren't you?"
"I am!" Abner's shoulders stiffened. "Has someone told you I'm not? If it was those—" He stopped himself, lips pressing together.
"Those who?" Cricket pressed gently.
"No one." Abner ducked his head back to his work. "Is that all? I really have to finish up this ointment."
"Yeah, I think that's it. Thank you for taking the time to speak with us Abner." Cricket slid off the stool. Ignacia shot him a questioning look, and he shook his head before leading her towards the door. The door slammed shut behind them again, but Cricket didn't stop. "We need to ask about smaller events. Curses on children."
"What? Wait. Why did we just walk away from him? That kid knows something." Ignacia raced after him before falling into stride beside him, frowning. "He's hiding something. It's all over his face."
"It is." Cricket agreed. "But he's not going to tell us what he's up to. We need to find out for ourselves. Yoshi said something..." Cricket frowned, shaking his head. "He said something that made it sound like he'd heard of some other magical issues while he'd been here. If that's the case, then it hadn't been reported before the town disappeared the first time."
"Which means?"
"Which means, whatever is going on here was probably caused by someone poking around into those smaller disturbances. So, we need to find out what those smaller disturbances were."
Ignacia nodded. "Where do we start?"
"Back at the market. But this time, let's talk to the mothers, not the vendors."
The market was just how Cricket remembered it. He stuck close to Ignacia as they walked into the circle.
"'scuse me," a child giggled, bumping into them in his hurry to get passed to the stalls.
"Jingyi! Get back here!" his mother shouted; her strides quick. "I'm so sorry." She bowed to them. "He's just so excited about the Sunday market is all."
"Excuse me ma'am," Cricket called just as she was turning to run after her son again. "Do you mind if we ask you a few questions?"
Jingyi's mother looked after the child, frowning when he tripped, and nearly toppled into the melon stand. Thankfully he caught his balance just in time. She shook her head.
"It will only be a moment," Ignacia promised.
"All right. What can I help you wi—" She stopped, her eyes widening when she finally got a good look at Cricket. "You're the... the..."
"Yes, ma'am." Cricket chuckled. "But please the questions?"
"Of course! Of course!" She dipped into a low curtsey. "Anything his highness needs."
"That's really not necessary." Cricket rubbed at the back of his neck, trying to make the heat that crept up it go away. He wondered briefly if he'd ever get used to people scrambling over themselves to pay him respect he wasn't sure he was due. He much preferred it when people just acted like he was another person, as Abner, Ava, and even Yoshi had done. "We're just wondering if there have been any strange things going on in town in the last couple of days, ma'am."
"Misses Wyatt, Your Highness." She curtsied again.
"You don't have to...do that." Cricket muttered awkwardly. He looked to Ignacia for help, but her shoulders were shaking with suppressed laughter, so she'd be no use. As always. "Please, let's go have a seat."
"Of course, Your Highness."
Cricket swallowed a groan, and led her to the fountain where they sat on its edge. "So, please, if there is anything strange?"
"Not that I can think of." Misses Wyatt frowned, taking a moment to think. "Unless you count the Cyrus boy coming down with a truly terrible case of the chicken pox."
"Was there an outbreak?" Cricket pulled out the journal again. "How old is he?"
"Fourteen, too old for it really." Misses Wyatt shook her head. "Jingyi had them when he was three, it went through the school. And the Cryus boy's were..."
"They were what?" Ignacia prompted.
"Well, they were far worse than any case I'd ever seen. I don't think the scars will ever go away, and oh my, they were all over his face." Misses Wyatt tsked, shaking her head. "Such a handsome boy too."
"Handsome?!" Jingyi asked, where he'd just appeared next to his mother. He let out a loud, hard laugh. "What's handsome got to do with it?"
Misses Wyatt shushed him. "Go off and play."
"No. No, what do you mean Jingyi?" Cricket leaned forward to get a better look at the child. He looked to be about five, and his face was scrunched up in that expression children usually reserved for vegetables.
"Dempsey Cyrus is a jerk! He deserves those scars!" Jingyi all but spat.
"Jingyi! You can't just say things like that about people! That's horrible!" Misses Wyatt had turned all the way around to reprimand her son. "You need to apologize, right now!"
Jingyi huffed, crossing his arms over his chest.
"I'm so sorry, Your Highness. I promise he's not usually like this."
"It's quite all right." Cricket brushed off the apology only half paying attention. His pencil moved fast across the page. His mind was already working over what that could mean. Bullies very often went unpunished, but this one had gotten his just desserts. Was it possible that he could have beat up on Abner? Enough to draw the young witch's ire?
"Thank you for your time," Ignacia said when it didn't look like Cricket was going to raise his head from the journal. "Please don't let us keep you from your shopping."
Misses Wyatt nodded. By the time Cricket came up for air from his thoughts, the Wyatt family was gone.
"We need to talk to some more mothers," he declared, snapping the book shut, and stuffing it back into the bag.
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