W hile Jenna, Ullr, Septimus and Beetle were setting off along the charcoal burners' gulley, Silas and Maxie were waking up in a cold, damp tepee in the Wendron Witches' Summer Circle.
Maxie had enjoyed his night in the Witches' Circle - Silas had not. The tepee had leaked and the bedding had gotten wet and begun to smell of rancid goat. To make matters worse, Silas had been kept awake by the giggling of a gang of teenage witches planning a raid on what they called Camp Heap, which was where Sam, Edd, Erik and Jo-Jo Heap lived. Silas, who had no wish to know what his four sons were up to when it came to the Wendron Witches, had stuffed his ears full of rancid goat wool - big mistake - and tried to get to sleep by counting sheep - even bigger mistake, as the sheep had turned into rancid goats and started chanting. After a while Silas had realized that the chanting was in fact the witches chanting around the campfire. Exasperated, he had thrown a pile of stinking goat fur over his head to drown out the noise and had finally fallen asleep.
As Silas lay staring blearily at the top of the tepee, a young witch put her head around the door flap and said, "The Witch Mother requests that you join her for breakfast."
Silas struggled to sit up, and the young witch suppressed a giggle. Silas's straw-colored curly hair looked like a bird's nest - the kind of nest that would belong to a large untidy bird with a hygiene problem. From the middle of the nest, Silas's green eyes peered out, trying to focus on the young witch. "Um, thank you. Please tell her that I would be delighted." Even though Silas felt as if he had spent the night with a wet goat sitting on his head, he knew that any invitation from the Witch Mother must always be treated with reverence and respect.
A few minutes later, Silas and Maxie were sitting beside a blazing campfire. A strong smell of damp dog with subtle notes of none-too-clean wool filled the air as Silas's Ordinary Wizard robes steamed in the heat. Behind him the young witch who had woken him poured out a cup of hot witches' brew and avoided breathing in too deeply.
Sitting opposite Silas was Morwenna, the Witch Mother - a large woman with piercingly blue witches'
eyes and long graying hair held back with a green leather headband. Morwenna wore the Wendron Witches' summer tunic of green and, as Witch Mother, she had a broad white sash around her more than ample waist.
The young witch passed Silas a steaming cup of witches' brew and he warily took a sip. It was, as he feared, disgusting - but it was also strangely warming. Morwenna was watching him with a fond smile, so Silas slowly drank a few more mouthfuls. As he did so he felt the ache in his bones fade and his spirits begin to drag themselves up from the deep pit where they had spent the night.
The young witch passed Silas a wooden bowl containing what looked, at first impression, like cereal with caterpillars. Silas inspected it dubiously but, telling himself that that flecks of green were most likely some kind of fleshy herb, he took a spoonful. His first impression had been right. They were caterpillars. Silas swallowed with some difficulty - because you never, ever spat out food given to you by a witch. Gloomily he surveyed the enormous amount of caterpillar cereal that he still had left to eat and wondered if he could sneak any to Maxie. He decided not to risk it.
"I trust it is to your liking?" asked Morwenna, noticing Silas's expression.
"Oh. Yes. It's very, um..." - Silas bit through a particularly large caterpillar with legs - "crunchy."
"I am so pleased. They are a late spring delicacy and give great strength and will clear your head. I thought you looked in need of them."
Silas nodded, unable to speak right then due to a mouth full of caterpillars and a sudden inability to swallow. One ghastly gulp later Silas decided he had to be tough - he would herd all the caterpillars together and get it over with. Gathering his courage, he scooped up and quickly swallowed two large spoonfuls of caterpillars. With great relief he looked at the remains of his cereal, which was now caterpillar-free. But, as Silas was taking a great gulp of the witches' brew to wash down the last resistant caterpillar that had got stuck between a gap in his teeth, the young serving-witch stepped forward with a small bowl full of writhing green tubes and dutifully added three more spoonfuls to his porridge.
"You seem preoccupied, Silas Heap," said Morwenna.
"Ahem," said Silas, overwhelmed by the latest caterpillar incursion.
"Thank you, Marissa, you may leave us now," said Morwenna, waving the young witch away. She took Silas's bowl from him with a smile and gave it to a deeply grateful Maxie. "Too many caterpillars this morning, perhaps?" she said.
"But, um, very...remarkable caterpillars. I feel much better, thank you." And it was true, Silas did suddenly feel better. In fact he felt very good indeed. Clear-headed, strong and ready for the day.
"Ever since I heard about Nicko's disappearance I have been expecting you," Morwenna said.
Silas looked amazed. "Oh. Oh, Morwenna, I Know Nicko is in the Forest. But I do not Know where."
"And I Know that he is not," said Morwenna.
"Are you sure?" asked Silas, who had great respect for Morwenna's knowledge.
Morwenna leaned forward and placed her surprisingly dainty hand on Silas's arm. Very gently she said, "Silas, I must tell you that Nicko is not in this world."
Silas went pale, the tepees surrounding him began to sway and he wanted to be sick. "You mean he's dead," he said.
Hastily Morwenna said, "No. He is no more dead than those who are not yet born are dead."
Silas put his head in his hands. He found what Sarah Heap scathingly called witchy-talk difficult at the best of times, and now was most definitely not the best of times. He needed to talk to his father.
Silas's father had been a practical man - a good, honest Shape-Shifter Wizard who was now living as a tree somewhere in the Forest. He would know what to do.
"Morwenna," said Silas, "there's a tree I need to find."
"There are many trees in the Forest," Morwenna observed. Silas wondered if she was making fun of him but then she said, "And some are more tree than others. Some were born trees and some became trees. I believe the tree you seek was not a born tree, I am right, Silas Heap?"
"Yes," said Silas.