Witches’ Brew by Terry Brooks

She smiled coyly. “You.”

“Me? Ho, ho! That’s a good one! Visiting me, are you?” He rocked with laughter. “You must lack much in the way of choices, then. Visiting me! As if that were something a little girl would do!”

“Well, I am.”

“Am what?”

“Visiting you. Sitting here having this conversation is visiting, isn’t it?”

He gave her a sharp look. “You are too smart by half, little girl. Misty, is it? You tell me now, if we’re really friends—who are you?”

She tried her best to look confused. “I already told you that.”

“So you did. Misty, out for a walk in the middle of nowhere. Come to visit a new friend she didn’t know she had until just now.” Poggwydd shook his whiskered face at her. “Well, you look like trouble to me, so I don’t think I want to talk with you anymore. I don’t need any more trouble in my life. G’home Gnomes have enough as it is. Good-bye.”

He rose and brushed himself off, sending dust and crumbs flying. She stared at him in disbelief. He really meant it. She scrambled up with him.

“I don’t see what difference it makes who I am,” she declared angrily. “Why can’t we just talk?”

He shrugged. “Because I don’t like little girls who play games, and you’re playing one with me, aren’t you? You know who I am, but I don’t know who you are. I don’t like that. It isn’t fair.”

“Isn’t fair?” she exclaimed.

“Not a bit.”

She watched him begin to gather up his few belongings. “But I don’t really know who you are, either,” she pointed out quickly. “I don’t know any more about you than you know about me. Except your name. And you know mine, so we’re even.”

He stopped what he was doing and looked at her. “Well, now, I suppose that’s right. Yes, I suppose it is.”

He put down his pack with a small clatter of implements and sat down again. Mistaya sat with him.

“I’ll make you a deal,” he said, holding up a single grimy finger for emphasis. “You tell me something about you, and I’ll tell you something about me. How about that?”

She held out her finger and touched it to his, binding the agreement. “You first.”

Poggwydd frowned, shrugged, and rocked back. “Humph. Let me see.” He looked marginally thoughtful. “Very well. I’ll tell you what I’m doing out here. I’m a treasure hunter for the King, for the High Lord himself.” He gave her a conspiratorial look. “I’m on a special mission, looking for a very valuable chest of gold that’s hidden somewhere in these woods.”

She arched one eyebrow. “You are not.”

“I am so!” He was immediately indignant. “How would you know, anyway?”

“Because I just do.” She was grinning in spite of herself. Poggwydd made her laugh almost as much as Abernathy did.

“Well, you don’t know anything!” He dismissed her with a wave of his hand. “I have been a treasure hunter for the King for years! I have found a good many valuable things in my travels, I can tell you! I know more about treasure hunting than anyone, and the High Lord appreciates that. That’s why he employs me.”

“I bet he doesn’t even know you,” she persisted, enjoying the game. It was the most fun she’d had in some time. “I bet he has never seen you before in his entire life.”

Poggwydd was beside himself. “He has so! I happen to know him quite well! I even know his family. I know the Queen! And the little girl, the one who’s missing! Why, I might even find her while I’m looking for that chest of gold!”

She stared at him. Missing? She kept her lips tightly together. “You don’t know her. You’re making this all up.”

“I am not! I’ll tell you something, since you seem so intent on being rude. The High Lord’s little girl is a whole lot nicer than you!”

“She is not!”

“Hah! Fly doodles! How would you know?”

“Because I’m her!”

It was out before she could help herself. She said it in a rush of indignation and pride, but she supposed that she would have said it anyway because this was a game, and he wouldn’t know whether to believe it. Besides, she wanted to see the look on his face when she said it.