Witches’ Brew by Terry Brooks

Abernathy did. They went out the door of the bedroom, along the short hallway, and down the stairs. As they passed Elizabeth’s closed door, they heard her singing inside. At least someone was feeling cheerful. They walked from the living room into the kitchen and came face to face with Mrs. Ambaum. She was standing in front of the stove making tea, bluff, hardy, watchful, and decidedly triumphant as she turned to face them.

“I spoke with Elizabeth’s father last night. He doesn’t recall having an Uncle Abernathy. Doesn’t recall anyone by that name. What do you have to say to that?” One hand gripped a tea strainer. Armed and dangerous if they were foolish enough to try anything.

Abernathy offered his most disarming smile. “We haven’t seen each other in years. We were just boys the last time.”

The corner of her mouth twitched. “He said to tell Elizabeth he’s flying in tonight. He wants to have a look at you.”

Abernathy blinked, conjuring up a picture of the meeting. Mrs. Ambaum cocked her head as if trying to get a look inside his.

Questor Thews quickly took charge. “Imagine that!” he declared. He took Abernathy by the arm and steered him past the startled housekeeper and out the back door. “Don’t be worried, now,” he called over his shoulder. “It will all get straightened out before you know it!”

They went down the porch steps and into the yard, Abernathy working very hard at not looking back over his shoulder to see if Mrs. Ambaum was staring after them. “I don’t much care for that woman,” he muttered.

Questor Thews grimaced. “Fair enough. She doesn’t much care for you, either.”

They moved out into the backyard, well away from the house, where curious ears might pick up what they had to say. Abernathy gazed at the sky and took in the sweep of its vast blue dome. He breathed in the smell of flowers and grasses and fading damp. Mrs. Ambaum was forgotten.

They reached an old bench painted glossy white to protect the wood against weathering and seated themselves, looking east across a broad stretch of empty fields to where the Cascade Mountains rose white-peaked against the depthless sky.

After a moment’s silence Abernathy looked at Questor. “Well?” he said.

The wizard sighed, folded his hands in his lap, fidgeted, and sighed again. “We have a problem,” he said.

Abernathy waited until it was clear that Questor did not know what to say next. “Could you possibly speak more than one sentence at a time, Questor Thews? That way we won’t waste the whole day.”

“Yes, all right.” The wizard was flustered. “The book. Theories of Magic and Its Uses. I read it last night. Read it twice, as a matter of fact. Made a very thorough study of what it had to say. I think it is what we are looking for.”

Abernathy nodded. “You think? Not very encouraging for those of us expecting a definite yes or no.”

“Well, it’s about magic—the book, that is—and magic is never exact. As you know. And this is a book about theory, a general discussion of how various magics work, about their principles, their commonalities. So it doesn’t say, for instance, “Take the eye of a newt, mix with a frog’s foot, and turn around three times left’ or some such.”

“I certainly hope not.”

“Well, that isn’t a real spell, anyway, of course. But it’s an example of a specific spell as opposed to general theory. This book is theory, as I said, so you can’t be certain about anything until you’ve tried it out; you can only apply the theory to the situation and be reasonably sure.”

Abernathy frowned. “Why do I not feel reassured by this? I wonder. Why does this conjure up memories of other times?”

Questor Thews threw up his hands. “Drat it, Abernathy! Please, no more attempts at humor! Just listen!”

They faced each other in stunned silence. The smile dropped from Abernathy’s face. “I apologize,” he said, surprised that he could even speak the words.

Questor nodded hurriedly and brushed the apology aside. Unnecessary between friends, he was saying. “Theory,” he continued, picking up the thread of his conversation. “The book reveals a theory that I remember from the days I studied under my brother in the time of the old King. It goes something like this. When one magic intervenes to change the result of another, to alter that result in a substantive way, then to undo the consequences of the intervening magic, you must use a third magic to put things back exactly the way they were. So magic one is applied, magic two changes the result, and magic three puts everything back the way it was before magic two was applied.”