Page 65 of Foul Days

“It does sound dangerous.”

“That’s what Vila said. She convinced my mum I needed to be trained before I burned down the entire city. So, that summer I began learning how to be a witch. I’d train all morning with Vila, and then in the afternoon, I’d go and help the milliner, the clockmaker, and the baker rebuild their workshops. They weren’t too upset with me, thank God. Things often catch fire in Chernograd, so they had excellent insurance policies.”

“Because of all the young fire witches?”

“Fire witches are quite rare, actually. No, it’s because of the Zmey.”

Kosara could tell Asen was about to ask something else, so she hurried forwards, leaving him to catch up with her. In front of the gardenia enclosure, an enormous black cat waited for them, his yellow eyes gleaming, his paws impatiently tapping on the cobblestones.

“Hi, Moth,” Kosara said. “How are you?”

The cat yawned to show her he had no time for pleasantries.

“The cat’s called Moth?” Asen asked.

“Short for Behemoth.” Kosara turned back to the cat. “Could you please lead us to your mistress?”

Moth walked between the trees, his fluffy tail raised up high in the air. From time to time, he turned around and pierced them with his eyes, as if telling them to hurry up.

“I thought you knew where Vila lives,” Asen said.

“I know she’s around here somewhere, I just don’t know where exactly. Her house moves.”

“Like a caravan?”

“Something like that. It’s got legs.”

“Legs? You’re pulling my—”

“I’m not, I swear. You’ll see.”

The lake was frozen solid, surrounded by a wall of snow-covered ferns and reeds. Vila’s house sat on a rocky outcrop in the middle. Two hen’s legs rested on both sides of it, as if the house was an enormous sleepy chicken.

“You weren’t joking,” Asen said. “The house has legs.”

“It certainly does. Vila says she got it from her ex-wife in the divorce proceedings.”

Moth was obviously tired of waiting for the two clumsy humans. He darted across the lake. His nails left white scratches on the ice and clicked against the wall as he climbed up the house, diving into the chimney.

Kosara tried the surface of the lake with her toe. It didn’t crack. She took a careful step forwards, then another one. Asen followed her, his shoes sliding and making him wobble.

Finally, they reached the house. Kosara raised her hand to knock on the door, but before she could, it opened with a loud creak. Vila stood in the frame with her hands on her hips. She must have been waiting for them.

Asen blinked in confusion, frowning, and Kosara suppressed the urge to elbow him in the ribs. What had he been expecting? Some decrepit old hag?

Vila had always looked as if she wasn’t a day older than thirty. She was the best herbalist in all of Chernograd, and youth potions were her speciality. The only thing that advertised her true age was her long braid, white as freshly fallen snow.

“Hi, Vila,” Kosara mumbled.

“Kosara! What a surprise.” Vila did not sound the slightest bit surprised. “Come on in.”

She led them inside, her braid swinging like a pendulum behind her. Her rubber boots left wet marks on the floor. Her hands were coated in mud—she’d probably been out picking herbs.

Kosara stepped over the threshold, and it was as if she’d travelled back in time. Nothing in the house had changed. The shelves along the walls were covered in jars and bottles: some were full of pickled gherkins and sour cabbage. In others, eyes blinked, teeth chattered, and tentacles twitched. Bunches of herbs and strings of tiny smoked fish hung from the ceiling beams, interspersed with dried varkolak ears and yuda tongues. Asen couldn’t walk standing straight without them tickling the crown of his head.

The fire blazed in the fireplace, and a cast-iron cauldron bubbled over it. A potion? As Kosara walked deeper into the house, she smelled it—lemons, fresh mussels and mackerel heads, parsley, mint, and thyme. Fish soup. It made her eyes water.

Vila sat on the armchair next to the fire. Moth jumped into her lap. She ran her dark fingers over his fur, making him purr about as quietly as a circular saw. Kosara and Asen were left standing, like badly behaved children in front of the schoolmistress.

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