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stood in one corner, and several frogs were practicing diving into a round tin laundry tub nearby. Frog songs called across the room. Flies buzzed all unsuspecting through the open window.
    Meg had never seen so many frogs in one place. She watched the frogs, waiting for a sign of the witch herself. “Must be out,” Meg said to herself.
    After which a creaking voice behind her inquired, “Well? Have you come to buy or to spy?”
    Meg spun around. The witch was older than old, with flashing black eyes and a bulgy nose like a small potato. Her hair was a peculiar shade of violet shot with shadows.
    â€œNeither,” Meg said, taking a step back.
    â€œSelling something, are you?” The witch’s eyes narrowed.
    â€œOh no, not that. It’s about the king’s contest.” Meg waited a moment. “Haven’t you heard?”

    â€œI don’t want to enter,” the witch said. “I prefer the quiet life. What’s it for, an ocean voyage? A year’s supply of barley?”
    Meg wasn’t sure how to answer. She didn’t want to tell the entire story. Well, Madam Witch, I’m the prize . “Half the kingdom and all that,” she explained. “They’ve called a bunch of princes over to complete three tasks.”
    â€œLike a story!” The witch brightened.
    â€œOnly you see, one of the tasks …” Here Meg paused.
    â€œSpeak up, girl!”
    â€œOne of the tasks is to defeat you.”
    â€œMe?” The witch looked confused. “I have no quarrel with anyone.”
    â€œThey want you out of this wood. Gone,” Meg told her.
    â€œWho does?” the old woman said crossly.
    â€œMy—the king. Only mostly, I think, it’s the prime minister. It’s his sort of idea. ‘Timber and tract housing,’ he said.”
    â€œI see.” The witch stumped toward the front of the cottage.
    Meg followed her. “Um…”
    The witch spun around. “And who are you, missy?”
    â€œI work at the castle. I heard about it up there.”
    â€œI suppose you want a reward for your bad news.”
    â€œOh no,” Meg said.
    â€œWell then, be off!” The witch stepped onto her tiny porch.

    This wasn’t exactly what Meg had expected. She reminded herself of her mission. She was here to stop the princes, and to save the witch. “Don’t you think—can I help you?” Meg ventured.
    The witch seemed startled, but only for a moment. “I’m a witch, aren’t I?” she said, stepping into her cottage and slamming the door behind her.
    Feeling a little hurt, Meg went back the way she had come. The moors were too far to reach in half a day, at least on foot. And she had promised Cam she’d go up to the Dragon Crags with him tomorrow morning. Meg tromped through the woods, muttering to herself about ungrateful witches.
    In the end, she went north through the woods and across the hill to the frog pond. Meg spent the rest of the afternoon catching dragonflies, having lost her taste for catching frogs at the witch’s cottage. It was peaceful. It was a lovely change from the tower. But it was very quiet. Meg wished Cam or Dilly could have come along. She shared her picnic with the ducks and considered strategies for rescuing a possibly princess-eating dragon.

5
    LATE IN THE DAY, MEG WENT INTO THE EDGE OF the woods to walk back to her tower. The sight of it still made her shudder, even though she reminded herself she had a way in and out.
    â€œThere you are!” Nort said when she came cautiously around the tower wall. “I was getting worried!”
    â€œI spied on the princes and talked to the witch,” Meg said. She had to tell somebody, and Nort was the only person around.
    â€œHurry and climb up,” he fussed.
    â€œDon’t you want to hear about it?” Meg asked.
    Nort looked surprised and pleased. “Of course. But Arbel will be here any minute.