A Question of Magic by E. D. Baker Read Free Book Online

fair! She was supposed to answer other people’s questions while hers went unanswered? Suddenly it occurred to Seraphina that if she could answer their questions, she might be able to answer her own. “What is happening to me?” she said out loud, and waited. But she didn’t lose control, or spout an answer, or feel any different.
    â€œYou can’t answer your own questions,” said Maks. “And you can’t tell people what to ask you.”
    Serafina turned toward the cat. “If you know so much, why don’t you just tell me what’s going on and save us both a lot of—”
    â€œHello!” an old woman’s voice called from outside the cottage.
    Serafina hurried to the door. Maybe her great-aunt hadn’t been that sick after all. Maybe Sylanna had come to tell her what to do. Peeking out the door, Serafina saw an old woman wearing a faded green shawl standing by the gate, one hand resting on a knobbed cane as she tried to lift the latch with the other. The old woman looked up as Serafina opened the door wider.
    â€œGood,” the woman said, giving Serafina a weary smile. “Someone is here. I’ve come to ask Baba Yaga my question.”
    Serafina couldn’t help but feel disappointed that the woman wasn’t Sylanna. Not sure what to do, she glanced back into the cottage. The cat was curled up again with his eyes closed. “You’re no help,” she muttered.
    Her mind was racing as she faced the old woman. It wouldn’t do Serafina any good to deny that she was Baba Yaga, not if she was going to have to answer questions whether she wanted to or not. It was even possible that by helping others, she might be able to help herself. Maybe by answering the questions, the answers she needed would present themselves somehow. Or maybe she had to answer a certain number of questions before she could go back to being her old self. She’d do anything that might help her return home. She just hoped it wouldn’t take too long.
    â€œCome in and sit down,” she told the woman. “We can talk inside.”
    The old woman shuffled into the cottage, and Serafina showed her to the table. As her visitor sat down, Serafina moved to the other chair so she could sit facing the woman. “How can I help you?” she asked.
    Her visitor looked surprised. “I won’t ask if you’re Baba Yaga and waste my question in such a foolish way. You didn’t look like this when I saw you before, but I’ve heard rumors that your appearance often changes. Ah well, that’s neither here nor there. For years I’ve been thinking about what question I would ask you. My age and poor health finally helped me decide. Before I forget, here’s a loaf of fresh-baked bread to thank you for seeing me.”
    Serafina had noticed the bread’s aroma the moment the old woman entered the cottage, but she thought the smell had just lingered on her visitor’s clothes. When the woman pulled a string bag out from under her shawl and removed a loaf of crusty brown bread, Serafina’s mouth began to water. Suddenly she was ravenous, and she would have eaten the bread then if her visitor hadn’t been looking at her so expectantly. “What is your question?” she asked the woman, unable to take her eyes off the loaf.
    â€œYou’ve probably answered this question many timesbefore, but I need to know—what is going to happen to me when I die?”
    Serafina had no idea how to answer, but her mouth opened of its own volition and she said, “You are a good woman and have shown others great kindness your entire life. You will die peacefully in your sleep this very month, and when you do, angels will come to escort you to heaven.”
    The old woman seemed satisfied with the answer, but Serafina must have looked distressed because her visitor leaned forward to pat her hand, saying, “Don’t fret about me, my dear. Your