Free The Brixen Witch by Stacy DeKeyser Page A

to almost anything.
    “I have devised a practice all my own,” said the stranger. “I can explain it if you wish, but does it matter how? The proof will be in the result. Let me add: I can give you an absolute guarantee.”
    At these words, even Marco the blacksmith appeared interested. “Every last rat?”
    The stranger nodded. “Every last rat, once and for all.”
    Dread gripped Rudi’s throat so that he could scarcely breathe. Such a promise could never be fulfilled. Not by earthly means.
    Then Marco’s eyes narrowed. “One moment, sir. A guarantee is all well and good, but at what cost? We’ve already paid a pretty penny—for empty promises.” He cast a dark eye at Rudi, who glared defiantly back.
    “Ah yes, well,” said the stranger, nodding politely toward the blacksmith. “Understandable, I’m sure. And yet, from the looks of things hereabouts, may I say you seem to be running short on choices?”
    The mayor cleared his throat and pulled at his mustache. “We will hear you out, sir, but you must know that Brixen is not a wealthy town.Our coffers, quite frankly, lie even closer to empty than usual, due to … recent expenses. So then, if you’d be so kind. Before we continue this discussion, perhaps we should discuss a price for your services.”
    A grin spread across the stranger’s face, and his eyes gleamed. “A price? Well, yes. There’s always a price.”
    “Let’s hear it then, man,” declared Marco. “How much do you plan to swindle us for?”
    “Master Smith, mind your tongue,” interrupted Mistress Tanner. “Our visitor has been nothing but good natured and agreeable. And he is offering to solve our desperate problem. Goodness knows we haven’t been able to solve it any other way.” And she turned toward the stranger and curtsied. “Excuse that dunderhead, kind sir. There’s one in every village, and he’s ours.”
    Rudi could scarcely believe his ears. Wasn’t it Mistress Tanner who’d admonished him only a few moments ago that any servant of the witch would be sly and cunning? Would lull a person into complacency?
    The stranger waved his hand. “Never trouble yourself, mistress. The gentlemen are right to ask the question. Yet no one would expect the good blacksmith to forge a set of hinges and hasps without proper compensation for his trouble andhis skill. The more delicate the task, the higher the payment, is that not so? It’s no different for myself. Surely anyone can understand that.”
    The crowd gave a collective shrug, and then there came a scattering of nods.
    “Spoken well and plainly,” said the mayor from the platform. “Which we all applaud, and if you truly can perform this service—and offer an absolute guarantee—the entire village of Brixen would be most grateful, I’m sure. Still—what is your fee?”
    The stranger smiled kindly. “Your situation appears to be most dire.”
    “Yes,” said the mayor. “It is. Please, name your price.”
    Now the stranger’s eyes shone in muted triumph. “My price,” he said, “is one golden guilder.”
    A huge commotion erupted in the hall. Villagers gasped in shock, and some recoiled from the stranger in their midst.
    With sudden and horrifying clarity, Rudi understood everything. The witch had not recovered her coin after all. Crude hex or no, she had indeed sent the rats, and now her servant, to root out the coin and return it to her at last.
    “You must be mad!” exclaimed Marco.
    “I’m sure we heard him wrong,” said Mistress Tanner. “No one has seen an actual golden guilderin generations, much less used one as currency. They’re too precious and rare. Guilder coins are made of mostly copper nowadays.”
    “He knows that,” barked Marco. “Even where he comes from.” Then he turned toward the stranger. “Where do you come from?”
    Mistress Tanner gave the stranger a nervous little curtsy. “Isn’t that what you meant, kind sir? A copper guilder?”
    The stranger’s smile did not fade.