“She makes a lot of potions in a cauldron,” Gargly said.

That was good. Lemon liked alchemy. She was a great assistant, even. Maybe she would talk to the swamp hag about that, and it wouldn’t have to be a fight. Maybe she was just misunderstood by the creatures that lived in the swamp.

“And she teaches the harpies how to do summoning magic. They’re going to summon a demon for her.”

Okay, maybe there wouldn’t be any talking. Summoning a demon was Bad. If that’s what the bird-ladies, er, harpies had been trying to do, Lemon was glad she’d ruined their ritual. Well, more glad than she already was. Maybe she should have thrown bigger rocks at them.

“Anything else? Can she conjure up fire or acid or lightning?”

Those were Hogarth’s favorite spells he used for when he wanted to destroy something. They made all sorts of bright lights and loud sounds, and also some strong smells. Not necessarily bad smells, except for the acid, but definitely strong, just like when he tried to cook breakfast and read books at the same time.

“No fire or lightning,” Gargly said.

Lemon noticed he didn’t answer on the acid. She supposed that was a ‘yes’ on that one then. “What about her potions? What do they do?”

“Lots of stuff. She makes a bunch of potions to help baby harpies fly. Those are the ones she uses my toads for. She dumps some in the water too and it spreads around, killing the trees and stuff.”

That was just mean! And also, Lemon resolved not to drink any of the water while she was in the swamp, not that she wanted to anyway. Gargly landed in a puddle in front of her with a massive splashing plop, then kicked off again. Whatever might have been wrong with the water, it didn’t seem to affect the toad boss.

Gargly led Lemon deeper into the swamp, in a direction that would hopefully get her back out the other side. She followed warily, still suspicious of the toad. Even though it (he? Gargly sounded like a he) had told her what he wanted, she didn’t trust him.

When they reached the edge of a small lake of brown-black water, Lemon hesitated. Gargly flopped right in and started kicking his legs, only turning back when he was far enough out to spin his squat body around. “Now what?” he said.

“It’s just… is it safe?”

“What, the water? Well, I’m in it, aren’t I?”

That was true, but he’d just said that the swamp hag poured magic potions into the water that made all the plants die. If it made trees sick, it could make her sick too. She didn’t have hard, rough skin like Gargly did.

“I’m just going to go around. It’s not that far out of the way.”

“No wonder you got lost. You’re never getting out of here if you’re afraid to get a little wet.”

Lemon ignored that and trotted around the lake. Gargly was waiting for her at the other side, half sunk into the mud and his eyebrow ridges drawn down into a scowl. Or a smirk. Maybe. It was hard to read toad facial expressions!

Gargly let her mostly in the direction she wanted to go, and even took her around the big, big lakes, though she did have to swim two more streams. After each one, she carefully checked herself over by walking in circles to get a good look, which the toad boss seemed to find funny for some reason.

“We’re almost there. Look here,” he said when they came to a stop next to a trio of barkless skeletal trees. Lemon peered out through them to see what looked like a small cottage sitting on an island in the middle of a big lake. The cottage was made entirely out of rotting wood and had plenty of holes in the roof and walls. Lemon was almost afraid to set foot in it, just because it was likely to fall down any second.

“The swamp hag lives in that?”

“Yep.”

“How are we supposed to get there?” Lemon asked

“Try swimming, unless you can fly.”

“If I could fly, I wouldn’t be stuck here.”

“I guess you’ll be swimming then,” Gargly croaked.

Lemon paced around in tight circles while she considered what she needed to do. Swimming across the lake was not going to be fun, and more than that, it wasn’t going to be quick. She was not a toad, and she didn’t have any magic to make her swim faster or quieter. If the swamp hag knew they were coming, she could attack Lemon with impna… imputin… im… without Lemon being able to do anything to stop her.

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“Is there anything else you haven’t told me about the swamp hag yet?” Lemon asked.

Gargly seemed to consider that for a moment before offering up, “Her name is Agurg.”

That wasn’t what Lemon had in mind. “I meant more like is she going to start throwing spells at me while I’m in the water? Does she have any pets that swim? An adult alligator could swallow a dog in one bite, you know!”

“What’s an alligator?” Gargly asked.

“It’s a really, really big lizard with lots of sharp teeth. Kind of like you, except longer, with a tail, and its mouth sticks out of its face.”

At least, that’s what the one in the picture from the book Hogarth used to teach her letters looked like. She’d never seen one in real life, but Hogarth said they lived in places with lots of water and they grew so big that a dog was barely a snack.

“I’m the biggest lizard you’re going to find around here.”

“You’re not a lizard,” Lemon said.

“Whatever. I’m the toad boss. Everything listens to me.”

“The swamp hag doesn’t.”

Gargly’s throat worked rapidly and his tongue lashed out to smack against the tree. “Get moving, fur-lizard.”

“I’m a dog.”

“Don’t care.”

“How are you expecting me to beat this swamp hag if you can’t do it?” Lemon asked.

“I don’t. I figure she’s going to eat you. But if you do beat Agurg, then great. No more swamp hag, and I’ll show you how to get out of my swamp.”

Lemon hadn’t noticed it before, but there were a lot of toads around now. They were mostly hidden in the mud, and mostly normal sized, but a few almost as big as her head were lurking nearby, watching. Toads had no right to be that menacing.

“I guess I’m doing this,” she said. She peered at the ruined cottage again. “Is… is she even home right now?”

Gargly croaked once and hopped into the water instead of answering. It was a much quieter splash than usual, Lemon noticed. He didn’t want to draw the swamp hag’s attention either. Lemon waded into the water and started paddling after the giant toad, who was just barely visible above the surface.

The water was so murky that she couldn’t see anything moving in it, not even her own paws. It was also weirdly warm, not that any of the swamp water had been that cold, but the lake was actually kind of nice, if she ignored the color and the potential for alligators.

Gargly surfaced at the far end when she was about halfway across and waited for her to catch up. Lemon dragged herself up out of the water, gave herself a good shake, and looked back at the toad boss. “Go on,” he croaked, still mostly underwater. His eyes tracked her as she walked up to the wall of the cottage, where she stopped to get a good sniff.

That smell of muck and decay that filled the whole swamp was so much worse here. Lemon didn’t think of herself as possessing a delicate stomach, but it took all she had not to gag when the stench hit her nose on that island. Worse, it smelled like Bad Magic, even worse than the harpies had been doing last night.

The Bad Magic wasn’t happening right now, but Lemon could smell it lingering in the air. It had been done recently and frequently, and would probably be done again soon. Whatever the swamp hag was doing, it was not something her master would have approved of.

Now that she was close, she could hear something moving inside, a sort of soft scraping sound that she didn’t recognize. It started and stopped irregularly, like stone being scraped against stone. Carefully, Lemon crept around the edge of the building. She looked back over her flanks at Gargly, who’d made no move to leave the water.

He wasn’t going to be any help, then. This was all up to Lemon to take care, which she would. The swamp hag was doing Bad Magic, and Lemon couldn’t let her do that. Even if Gargly hadn’t been threatening to withhold his help unless she beat Agurg, Lemon still would have tried to stop her from doing whatever it was she was doing.

The cottage had a doorway on the far side, though when Lemon found it, she wasn’t able to get in. A bush had grown up through the mud and its branches, bare of leaves, had spread out to fill the entire frame. There was no way Lemon was getting in there, but it did let her get her first good look at Agurg.

The swamp hag was sitting on the floor, which was a mix of rotted board and muddy patches, holding a cleaver in one hand and a large rock in the other. Every now and then, she ran the rock down the edge of the blade a few times, then stopped to peer at her work before repeating it. As Gargly had said, her skin was green (probably; Lemon wasn’t using her spectacles and greens, grays, and browns tended to blend together), her hair was black and stringy, and her teeth looked like fish teeth, little, crooked, jagged needles partially hidden behind thin, cracked lips.

And the smell. If Lemon had thought it was bad before, standing in that door frame let her get a real whiff of it. It was enough to draw an involuntary whine from her, enough to make her ears and tail droop. Agurg’s head snapped up at the sound, and she peered around her cottage for the source.

She said something Lemon couldn’t understand, but it reminded her of the kind of whistling shrieks the harpies used to communicate. When she didn’t get an answer, Agurg spoke again in a different language. On the third try, she said in rasping, watery common tongue, “Who’s there? Come closer now. I won’t hurt you.”

That might have been more convincing if not for the rusty cleaver she was holding in her hand and the leer on her face while she spoke. Lemon took an involuntary step back, and the swamp hag’s eyes snapped over to her.

“What’s that? Gargly? That you? Come on out, you little croaking coward.”

The branches of the bush started to curl in on themselves, releasing their grasp on the door frame and leaving plenty of room for Lemon to slip by the trunk. If she wanted to, she could go in and meet the swamp hag.

Lemon did not want to. But she was going to, because she was a good girl. And good girls didn’t let Bad Magic happen. Hogarth told her so. Even Midnight agreed, and she never agreed with anything Lemon did. If Agurg was doing Bad Magic, and everything Lemon had seen pointed to her as the source of it in the swamp, then she had no choice but to walk through the door.

Lemon slid past the retreating branches and into Agurg’s cottage.