Jenna shook her head stubbornly. “I have to try, Sep. I have to.”
It was Wolf Boy who settled the argument. “Why don’t we check out the Triple rules first?” he suggested. “There are lots of books here that you don’t have in the Castle—you know, witchy books. We might find a way around needing the third bowl. Witches are good at finding their way around things.”
“That’s a good point, Jen,” said Septimus.
Jenna could only agree with Wolf Boy. Witches clearly were very good at finding their way around things. “Okay,” she said. “We’ll stay tonight. And look through all the books.
Supper was pig-foot pie garnished with steamed eel heads followed by a large communal bowl of cabbage leaf and marshberry jam puree, into which Aunt Zelda suggested they dip dried wormsticks, although no one did. The usual pushing of food around plates occurred, and even Septimus, who had once loved Aunt Zelda’s cooking, found the pig foot on his plate hard to swallow. They helped Aunt Zelda clear the table and wash the plates; then Aunt Zelda went upstairs to bed, leaving them feeling queasy but still very hungry.
Wolf Boy fetched three straw mattresses and laid them out beside the fire along with three pillows and quilts. As the gentle sound of Aunt Zelda’s snores drifted down the stairs, Wolf Boy began setting up a tripod over the fire, from which a large hook dangled.
“What’s that for?” Jenna asked.
“The cooking pot,” said Wolf Boy. “Like we had in the Forest. ’Scuse me a moment.” He got up and went into the kitchen, returning with a round black pot, which he carefully hung on the hook. He threw another log on the fire and they watched the flames jump up and curl around the side of the pot. “Rabbit stew,” said Wolf Boy. “Proper rabbit stew. With good stuff in it like—”
“Rabbit?” asked Jenna.
“Yep. With potatoes and onions and carrots and herbs.”
“No eels?” asked Septimus.
“No eels,” said Wolf Boy firmly. “No wormsticks and positively no pigs’ feet.”
As the cooking pot bubbled gently, a delicious smell filled the room and ushered out the lingering taint of eel. Jenna felt ravenous. “Do you always cook your own stuff?” she asked.
“I’d be as thin as one of those brooms up there if I didn’t,” said Wolf Boy. “Zelda doesn’t mind. She goes to bed early, I clean up and then I sit here with my cooking pot and memorize some potions or something.”
“You don’t get lonely?” asked Jenna.
“Nah. I’m not alone. Zelda’s upstairs, Bert’s here and the marsh is outside. I love it.”
To Jenna’s dismay, the search through Aunt Zelda’s witchy library yielded nothing at all. As the moon rose high above the snow and its silver light filled the cottage, they settled down for the night, pulling the quilts around them to keep off the chill that was creeping in. The cottage grew quiet and they began to drift off to sleep, lulled by the silence of the frozen marsh.
Suddenly Wolf Boy sat up. “Hey!” he said.
“Wassamatter?” Septimus mumbled blearily.
“So what am I called?” asked Wolf Boy.
“Huh?” asked Jenna.
“My name? What’s my name?”
“Wolf Boy,” said Jenna, confused.
“No. I mean my real name. There’s Matt and Marcus, but what about me?”
“Ah,” said Septimus. He glanced at Jenna.
“Your surname is Marwick,” said Jenna. “That’s a good, ancient Castle name.”
“Marwick . . . yeah, that’s nice, feels right, somehow,” said Wolf Boy. “But what is my first name?”
“Well.” Septimus sounded reluctant.
Wolf Boy was getting impatient. “Oh, spit it out, 412. It can’t be that bad.”
Septimus thought it could. “Mandy,” he said.