Everyone in Hylan had heard the rumor that Ekatern was a crystal witch. Whispered voices said she had the power to make dead crystals glow again and to induce glowing crystals to perform unnatural feats. Local legends held that she had built a wagon with crystal wheels that required no horses or llamas to pull it, or that she had woven tiny crystals into a small carpet that could fly her to far-off places in the wink of an eye. Other stories told of vast treasures of crystals of all shapes, sizes, and colors, buried deep under her mansion. And there were those tales told in darkness - gruesome tales about trances she cast upon unwary travelers to make them her undead slaves, of her hunger for the tender flesh of babies, and even of a third eye hidden behind her brightly colored scarves. An eye that could foresee death – and perhaps cause it.
Ekatern was the most feared woman in the village. She was also, by far, the wealthiest. So, when her servant women sent word that she was hiring youngsters at an unheard-of salary to prepare her large, old house for the annual Feast of the Vessel, no one hesitated to bundle off their precious children to the old witch’s home with great haste. Xahn’s father was no exception, despite his very vocal distaste of the old woman. The Vessel knew he needed the money as much as anyone else.
Xahn Starai knew the stories as well as any other young man in the village, but he did not believe them – not most of them, anyway. Even a lanky fourteen-year-old boy could see that many of them just did not make sense. If Ekatern had a host of undead slaves, for instance, why did she hire village woman to clean her house and do her shopping in the marketplace each week? And if she had a fortune in crystals hidden beneath her home, why was her large house – which sat on a hill, overlooking the town – always in such disrepair? True, she was ancient – Xahn’s father claimed his own grandsire had spoken of her. But advanced age alone did not make her a witch.
So, with more curiosity than foreboding, Xahn took his twin sister Dahn by the hand and went to Clayton Field in the northeast corner of the Hylan village square, just before sun-up, along with a throng of others near their age and younger. All the children were dressed alike: gray tunics, trousers, and dresses of rough, home-spun llama wool. Some parents had made half-hearted attempts to add color to their children’s clothing by soaking them in red, green, or blue dyes made from local plants, which faded quickly, looking worse than the natural gray. Others had added pictures stitched with colored thread to offset the drabness of the garments. But, in general, the children looked the same, anyway. Even Dahn and Xahn, whose father harvested the village wool from the family’s own llamas, were adorned in nothing special. Only the large, floppy hats their father had woven from straw made them stand out. And the fact that neither of them carried any visible crystals on their persons – not even on a finger ring.
It was a cool but bright autumn morning, the sun just cresting the jagged brown peaks to the east, bathing the witch’s boxy old wood and stone monstrosity atop the hill in a golden glow. The square house had obviously been built a very long time ago from local materials: the foundation and facade of brown stones, each about the size of man's head, cut roughly but neatly from the surrounding mountainside; the boxy main structure, the gables, and the single tall, empty bell tower constructed of graying redwood. Rotting pine shutters framed the high windows, some hanging from a single bent hinge, and others missing entirely.
The two most impressive features of the house, though, were on the ground floor. The most visible was the enormous front door. Formed from a single massive piece of wood, easily three times the height of a tall man and wide enough for five adults to walk through it abreast, it was intricately carved with whirls and patterns that were visible from the village. Perhaps it was made from one of the few giant redwoods in the Sep’g Wood to the east of Hylan. Long ago, those swirling carvings that covered every visible inch of the door had been slathered in a thick lacquer that had once been bright red but had since faded almost to brown, just a bit redder than the surrounding stones. In the center of the door was a golden doorknob, surrounded by a sixteen-pointed star, also made of gold, which was still bright and shiny as new.
The second feature, which everyone in the village knew about, but couldn’t see from this distance, was the fence. Made of thick wrought iron posts half as tall as the bell tower and set far enough apart that the smaller children could easily pass between them, the fence surrounded the house only a few paces away from its walls. The dirt road leading from Hylan Square up the hill to Ekatern’s house passed through the fence’s two large wrought iron gates. This morning, the gates stood open, though they were more often shut. Xahn had always been confused about why the gates were ever closed at all, because anyone who wanted could probably squeeze between the widely-placed fence posts, whether the gates were open or not.
“Think this is worth the handful of whites we’ll get for the job?” a voice whispered in Xahn’s ear, and he smiled back at his best friend. Stocky and not quite as tall as Xahn, Wyll Helper was a bubbly, pleasant boy who possessed a round face full of freckles and a thick shock of bright red hair that always stood upright except for twice a year when his mother shaved it off. As usual, Wyll couldn’t resist an adventure or the chance to complain about it.
“I don’t care how much we’re paid,” replied Dahn, softly, having heard Wyll’s whisper to Xahn. “That witch scares me. I’d rather stay home.” She absently adjusted the floppy hat on her long, black hair while tightening her grip on her brother’s hand.
“We all need the money,” Xahn said simply, without bitterness, still smiling. “Even your family could use help, Wyll, after this last harvest. Besides, haven’t you always wanted to see inside that place?” Dahn’s hand went cold in his and Xahn decided that maybe his twin wasn’t as curious as he was.
“My father has been inside it,” Wyll said, matter-of-factly. He never put on airs about his father’s position as Mayor of the village. “Some kind of meeting with the Elders a few years ago, I think. He said it was run-down, but amazing. So many rooms and all with crystal chandeliers. Paintings, too, he said.”
“Paintings?” Dahn asked, curiosity temporarily overcoming her trepidation. “What kinds of paintings?”
Wyll shrugged. “I never asked. Mum probably knows. I’ll go ask her.” He turned quickly to go.
“Never mind,” said Xahn, laughing as he gently grabbed his friend’s shoulder and turned him around. “We’ll see for ourselves soon enough. Look, Jayn and Tami are already coming down the hill to fetch us.” He paused, considering the worried faces around him. “I think we’ll be safe,” he said, answering their unspoken question. “She’s bringing all the children in the village up there, she’s not about to do anything to us as long as we stay together.”
“Right,” said Wyll. “Of course. Certainly. I’m not scared. Was that Mum calling me? I swear I heard her.”
“Come on,” said Xahn, and taking both Dahn and Wyll by the hand, lead them towards the two women just now entering the village on the North Road.
Because most of the children were milling about uncertainly, a few hanging close by parents who’d come to see them off, Xahn, Dahn, and Wyll reached the servant women first. Jayn Hatter was tall and dark headed, like the majority of Hylan’s citizens. Tami was short and unassuming with brown hair and a dress not unlike the one Dahn wore. Jayn, however, wore a colorful skirt of cotton and a sky blue blouse of some airy, translucent fabric that Xahn had never seen before. In typical fashion, she had a large grin on her face which widened and spread to her large brown eyes the moment she saw Xahn, Dahn, and Wyll.
“Hello, my loves!” Jayn shouted in her pleasantly dark contralto voice. She spread her arms and sped towards them, gathering all three children in an enthusiastic embrace. Wyll turned his head a bit, uncomfortable with the display, but Xahn and Dahn returned the hug.
“I’m glad you’re here,” Dahn told her, kissing her cheek. “It’s the only reason I agreed to go to that witch’s place.”
“Now, don’t be like that,” Jayn chided her with a mock frown. “The Old Woman is a little outspoken, true, but she’s actually very kind. I don’t know what I would’ve done without her offer to help, after I lost Duncan and Tress.”
Xahn was amazed that Jayn could talk so freely about the loss of her husband and daughter. True, it had been nearly six years since her three-year-old girl Tress had fallen sick with fever and her father, desperate to find a doctor, had ridden off on horseback through the Valley toward Lolan, never to return. The deaths had devastated Jayn and for months she had become numb to everyday life. Family, close friends and neighbors worried that she would be consumed by the Sadness, as so many other women had been. As the twins’ own mother had been. But one day, Ekatern’s servants had simply appeared at her door and recruited her for service in the old woman’s house. Since then, most of the community had ignored her, because many folks in these parts placed Ekaterin’s servants in the same category as socializers – well-paid, but with duties it was unpleasant to think about. Still, Xahn had to admit, Jayn had seemed much happier since she’d started working for the old woman.
“She frightens me, Jayn,” Dahn admitted, softly.
“Well then, I suppose I’ll have to protect you from her,” Jayn said with a wink, cupping Dahn’s chin her hand. “But, the time will come when you won’t need me to. And how about you two?” she asked, looking at Xahn and Wyll.
“Father doesn’t much care for her,” Xahn said, cautiously. “But he’s not afraid of her and he’s willing to send us up to her house, so I’m not too worried.”
“Yes, well, Karl wouldn’t care for her much, would he?” she asked softly, absently fingering the glowing green Crystal attached to a thin silver cord around her throat. “And you, Wyll?”
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“It depends,” said the red-haired boy, thoughtfully.
“Depends on what?” Jayn asked.
“Her breakfast. Father says you can tell a lot about folks by what they place on your plate.”
Jayn laughed loudly, her mouth wide open, eyes closed. She shook her head and rubbed Wyll’s red hair, which made the boy wrinkle his nose. Drawing herself up to her full height, nearly a head taller than Xahn, Jayn shouted out to the crowd, “All children ten years and older, gather to me. The rest, please gather around Miss Tami!”
Xahn was surprised and impressed at the speed with which Jayn and Tami organized the throng of children into two neat groups of about the same size and lined them up in marching order, like two small armies. Since they were the first to arrive, Xahn, Dahn and Wyll were at the head of the column of the older children standing three-abreast that strung out behind them down the North Road, very nearly the entire length of Clayton Field. A stream of younger children marching four-abreast, every two children holding hands, had already begun following Tami on the eastward trek up the long hillside toward Ekatern’s house. The older children followed behind, their job, as Jayn explained, was to keep any eye on the youngsters and ensure that none of them wondered away. This made the going slow, but somehow made Xahn feel better about the entire venture.
The focus of the short journey was the large house that grew steadily larger as the young troops climbed the North Road towards it. And the focus of the house was that golden doorknob in the middle of the huge, red front door. Caught in the morning sunlight, the doorknob gave off a brilliant glow that seemed to lure the children towards it like a beacon. Several times, Xahn swore the knob twinkled, like a bright star. A strange feeling began to creep over him. A feeling that the house was alive. That glowing spot on the door suddenly appeared to be, not a doorknob at all, but an eye – watching them.
Jayn, sensing the children’s nervousness, engaged them all in conversation from the time they left Clayton Field. She talked about the drought, the mines, the farms, the price of crystals, news about skirmishes with the Frans she’d heard while in Lolan, some strange rumors from the Hahn traders about trolls in the Frozen Waste, and even the latest fashions from throughout the Valley. Jayn knew what she was doing, Xahn had to admit; it seemed like no time before the witch’s mansion was directly before them.
As the rough mountain road gave way to a wide cobblestone pathway which lead through an enormous wrought iron gate to the mansion’s courtyard, Dahn squeezed Xahn’s hand again and leaned over toward his ear. “Did you hear that?” she whispered nervously, stretching her neck upwards a bit so that he could hear.
“What?” Xahn whispered back, confused. He hadn’t heard anything over the constant noise of small children talking, which sounded to him like a flock of geese in a field, just before taking flight.
“I heard a voice,” his sister said, still whispering. “It said, ‘Welcome home.’” Dahn shivered and Xahn felt her palm turn icy cold and begin sweating. “I swear it was Mamma’s voice.”
Xahn’s breath caught. He hadn’t heard the voice, but the instant his feet had touched the cobblestone path, the scent of lavender and honey, their mother’s scent, had wrapped around him like a warm embrace, bringing with it memories, longing, and a bit of sadness. For an instant, he had felt as if he could simply turn his head and she would be there, walking beside them.
No words came from his tight throat when Xahn tried to reassure his sister. All he could do was return her hand squeeze in a show of support. He looked at Dahn’s face and tried to smile. There was sadness, yearning, and … fear in her eyes.
“What’s going on?” Wyll whispered, looking anxious at the other two. “Are you feeling that too? Like you’re definitely in trouble for something, but you’re not sure what you could have done wrong?”
Xahn and his sister couldn’t help but laugh at Wyll’s expression of unease and confusion. Then, Wyll started to chortle and with that, the tension of the moment was broken. Dahn’s hand felt normal again to Xahn and he winked at Wyll, who raised an eyebrow and gave him a confused look.
Soon, all the children had entered the fenced area surrounding the large house. It was much bigger up close than Xahn had imagined. He suddenly felt it was very strange that he’d grown up all his life looking up at the house and had never bothered to get this close to it. Judging by the open mouths and craned necks of the others around him, Xahn wasn’t the only one feeling that way.
This close to the house, Xahn noticed things he’d never been able to see from the village. For instance, there were small metal star shapes scattered around the brown stone walls. After looking at them for a few moments, he suddenly realized that each group of star shapes was arranged to form the brightest constellations in the night sky. There, at the top, was Lycatea the Snake, further down he saw the Towers of Hahn, and even Gabriella’s Harp. He wondered why Ekatern had chosen to capture the night sky on the walls of her house. There was also a strange feeling in the courtyard … like a chill in the air, but more subtle. The hairs rose on the back of his neck and on his forearms.
But it was the doorknob that continued to draw his attention. He felt even more than before that the glowing sixteen-pointed star was like the eye of the house, looking at him, beckoning him to enter. Xahn could hardly wait until that reddish-brown door opened and he could see inside the enormous house.
Then, suddenly, the doorknob blinked.
Furrowing his brow, Xahn shook his head and wondered if what he’d just seen was simply a trick of light autumn sunlight. He looked again. The doorknob was as it had always been – a golden sphere surrounded by a golden star. But he would have sworn to anyone, on his life, that it had for a moment been covered by dark red lids, as if there really were an eye in the red door. As if the house were watching him.
“Alright, children,” Jayn said. The twins both jumped when the tall, dark-haired woman spoke. Several other children were startled, as well, and Xahn wondered if others had seen what he had. In the presence of the witch’s house, everyone was so quiet that they all heard Jayn, every word, even though she spoke in a soft, calm voice. “The younger children with Tami will gather behind the house. You’ll be pulling weeds and preparing the soil to plant flowers. Won’t that be fun?”
A few of the younger children smiled and some even jumped up and down at chance to work with flowers. The last winter had been very harsh, the spring and summer drier than normal, and flowers had been scarce this year. While many of the children looked disappointed that they wouldn’t be invited inside the house, a few looked quite relieved.
“The older girls will come with me to sweep and dust the great hall and front chambers,” Jayn continued. Once again, Xahn felt his sister’s hand grow cold in his. He gave it a squeeze to reassure her that he’d be there for her.
“And the older boys will begin moving those carts over there back into the village,” Jayn concluded.
Wait. Had Xahn heard her right? The older boys were not going inside the house? His heart sank.
“Well, that’s a relief!” Wyll sighed, stretching his neck to get a look at the large wooden carts that stood within the gates on the south side of the building. There were at least twenty of them of various sizes, each seemingly packed with items, but covered with a rough cloth so that the contents couldn’t be discerned. “What has the crystal wi…I mean, what has our hostess packed in those carts, then?” Wyll asked.
Jayn strode over to the nearest cart and lifted the heavy, brown cloth so that the children could see within it. The wooden enclosure was filled to the point of overflowing with fresh fruits: apples, pears, grapes, strawberries, and others of shapes and colors that Xahn wasn’t familiar with. Despite his disappointment at being left outside the house, his mouth started watering. This year’s poor harvest had left the village nearly barren of fruit. The single cart held more than ten times what their farms had produced.
“And what are we doing with all that fruit?” Wyll asked, suspicion coloring his tone.
“This is for your parents,” Jayn told him. “Part of the payment for your services.”
“Of course!” Wyll lamented, rather loudly. “I should have known!” He glanced sheepishly at the open mouths around him. “A bit loud, wasn’t I?” he asked, more softly this time. “Sorry, but I was hoping for crystals, not fruit.”
Jayn looked at the red-haired young man as if something odd were growing from that thick patch of orange on top of his head. “This is a mining town, Wyll.” The tone of her voice seemed to add the words “you poor, simple-minded boy” to the end of her sentence. What she actually did say was, “The village folk deal in crystals every day. They trade crystals for food, cloth, metals, and sundries that they cannot make themselves. Surely, Wyll, your father being who he is, you realize this.”
“I’m not a fool,” Wyll burst out. “I know what’s happening. I knew Dad was working out some kind of deal with Ekatern. I was just hoping that there would be some crystals to be had as well. I wanted to skim a few whites off the top so that I’d have my own money. Dad never gives me any.” He cast his eyes to the ground, moving a clod of dirt around with his toe.
Xahn hadn’t known about “the deal” Wyll spoke of. He’d only been hoping to get past that glowing doorknob. He heaved a heavy sigh; it didn’t look like it was going to happen. Not today, anyway.
“Very well, boys,” Jayn told them. “Each cart needs at least two of you to shepherd it down the road to Mayor Helper’s house for distribution.” Several of the larger boys immediately made their way to the bigger carts and started pushing them out of the gates
“Wyll,” Jayn said, “take this to your father.” She fished a sheet of rough, heavy paper out of the depths of bag hung over one shoulder and handed it to Wyll. “It’s a list of who gets what. Ekatern expects the mayor to distribute these goods properly, in accordance with their agreement.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Wyll said, reluctantly accepting the paper. “My father told me to expect it. Said he’d box my ears if I didn’t get it to him safely.”
“Well, if he doesn’t box them, then I will,” Jayn told him, deadly serious. As Wyll hung his head and shoved the folded paper under his shirt, Jayn turned her head slightly and, without changing expression, winked at the twins. Xahn suppressed a giggle. Dahn almost succeeded in doing the same.
“Alright,” Jayn said loudly, clapping her hands to get everyone’s attention, “get with your groups and let’s begin our work!” Jayn took Dahn by her free hand, gently pulling her toward that tall red door – the door that Xahn would not pass through today. Reluctantly, Dahn let her other hand slip free of Xahn’s and, with a look of foreboding, waved goodbye to her brother as Jayn drew her toward the house.
Xahn took one long, last look at the glowing doorknob, still reminded of an eye watching him. As Jayn and his sister approached the door, the other young women in tow, the large red door began to slowly swing outwards. Xahn caught a glimpse of an enormous room with high ceilings and giant chandeliers made of fist-sized glowing red, green and blue crystals. Then just as soon as Jayn’s group had entered, the servants who had pushed the large door open, pulled it closed, leaving the courtyard just about empty. And the house’s large, golden eye was staring at Xahn again.
He then turned with a heavy sigh toward the fruit-laden cart that Wyll was trying to push. Xahn hoped that tomorrow, the crystal witch would beckon him inside. A quiet certainty settled in his bones — he was destined to enter that house. And it would be soon.