Page 14 of The Pebbled Path

“And we know she means to kill you,” Gretel reminded him. “You must be cautious as well.”

Chapter Eight

Hansel sat in tense worry in his dark room as time moved painfully slowly. He had full faith in his Gretel’s bravery and cleverness; he simply knew how very dangerous the situation was.

Gretel, having gathered her two buckets of spring water, moved with furtive steps into the garden. She didn’t know what powers the garden water might have, but she felt certain she shouldn’t touch it. So she had brought with her a ladle from the kitchen. She could fill it with water from the pond of mourning and pour it into the slightly smaller of her two buckets. That water she would set out for the enchantress. The other bucket she would use for herself and Hansel.

She set the smaller bucket near enough to the pond for easily transferring her ladle of water. She glanced back at the cottage, looking for any sign that the enchantress was awake or, worse still, watching her. All was still and quiet.

Gretel’s heart thudded painfully as she inched closer to the water. The constant trickle of water from the pillars of stone had made her uneasy from the first moment she’d seen it. But, knowing now that these stones were weeping for the people they had once been, the sight was both unnerving and heartbreaking.

She knelt at the side of the pond, careful not to touch the water. She reached out with the ladle and dipped it in the water. Slowly, cautiously, she lifted it out once more. But as she drew it closer, she could see there was no water in the bowl of the ladle. Indeed, it didn’t even look wet.

Gretel tried again, just as carefully. It emerged once more entirely empty and as dry as it had been when she’d first fetched it from the kitchen.

Twice more she tried before having to admit that the effort was futile. The water could not be fetched in this way.

Now what were they to do?

***

Gretel explained to Hansel when she brought him his supper why it was she’d not been able to proceed with their plan. Though he, of course, wished they were already free of the enchantress, he did not yet feel defeated. They were close to the answer they were seeking; he was certain of it.

“The answer has to be here,” she said in a quiet voice as she studied once more the “New Life” spell in the enchantress’s spell book. “We know what the potion does. We know the men are turned to weeping stones. But what of the tears? The water was able to splash out of the pond in a gust of wind, but I cannot carry it away from the pond. There must be a reason why, or at least a means of using it to defeat her.” Gretel leaned forward, reading more closely. “A pond of mourning.”

Hansel had pondered that bit himself, though he’d not sorted out its significance. “A pond of mourning,” he repeated. “Mourning. The stones cry in grief.”

“Or perhaps the tears are their grief, the final remnants of her victims’ thoughts and feelings and existence,” Gretel speculated. “Those tears are what they are reduced to.”

The idea was disturbing but also provided a bit of an insight. “The water is her victims,” Hansel said, certain as he spoke the words that they were true. “That would explain why she fears it.”

“I cannot bring her victims to her,” Gretel said, “but if she were forced into the pond, do you suppose they could have their revenge?”

He nodded. “It is at least plausible.”

“But how do we force her into it?”

He joined her in pacing. “We must get her to the garden, but how?”

“She goes there now and then,” Gretel said. “But she is very careful of the water. I could not, on my own, force her into it.”

“The two of us together might manage it.”

“I could create allurements,” Gretel suggested.

He had read the allurement spell, the one they felt certain the enchantress used to draw men to her cottage. “She would likely realize she was being drawn forward. I do not believe we can rely on our use of magic to defeat her. I believe we must use hers against her.”

“The only way the three of us would be together in the same place is if you are well enough to take supper with her,” Gretel said. “And I must be required to serve it. She has never allowed me to be present during her suppers, let alone required it of me.”

“If I feign an ever-deepening infatuation with her and insist that I cannot bear the thought of losing even a moment of her company and plead with her to leave the serving of the meal to you, do you think she would agree?”

“Possibly.” She pressed her fingertips to her mouth as she thought. “You could also insist that you’d like to have a meal outdoors, for the fresh air or the beauty of the surroundings. Make it sound as though you wish the setting to help you woo her. While she is not the least interested in being courted, I do think she thrives on the attention. And your enthusiasm for her helps her schemes. I believe she will encourage it.”

The plan was not without risks, but it was the first promising idea they’d had. “I will plead for a more ‘romantic’ supper and the convenience of a servant . . . if you’ll pardon my referring to you that way.”

“Pardon you?” Gretel smiled with amusement. “Should you refer to me in any other way, she will likely suspect you of being less than enamored of her.”

Hansel took Gretel’s hand in his and raised it to his lips, kissing her fingers. “Once we have managed the impossible and defeated this foe, remind me to tell you just how enamored of you I am.”