The Shop-Witch's Quest, page 1
COPYRIGHT
The Shop-Witch’s Quest first published in the United Kingdom by Barrington Stoke in 2024
Published in this ebook edition in 2024
Barrington Stoke is an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd
1 London Bridge Street
London SE1 9GF
www.harpercollins.co.uk
HarperCollinsPublishers
Macken House, 39/40 Mayor Street Upper
Dublin 1, D01 C9W8, Ireland
Text copyright © Aisha Bushby 2024
Illustrations copyright © Patri de Pedro 2024
Cover design copyright © HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd 2024
Aisha Bushby and Patri de Pedro assert the moral right to be identified as the author and illustrator of the work respectively.
A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this ebook onscreen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.
Source ISBN: 9780008688516
Ebook Edition © September 2024 ISBN: 9780008715649
Version: 2024-07-24
NOTE TO READERS
This ebook contains the following accessibility features which, if supported by your device, can be accessed via your ereader/accessibility settings:
Change of font size and line height
Change of background and font colours
Change of font
Change justification
Text to speech
Page numbers taken from the following print edition: ISBN 9780008688516
DEDICATION
To my Nora, never lose the magic! – P.d.P
CONTENTS
Title Page
Copyright
Note to Readers
Dedication
1. Witch Wares Emporium
2. A Hero!
3. A Failed Quest
4. Laurel’s Very Own Quest
5. Horses and Stardust
6. The Dragon Crossing
7. The Potion-Witch
8. A New Friend
9. A Real Hero
About the Publisher
In a land of monsters and magic, there were two sorts of people. First, there were the heroes who protected everyone from danger and went on brave adventures to fight epic battles. Then, there were the witches who lived peaceful lives filled with practical magic and clever potions. It was the witches who made sure everything worked as it should.
Laurel was a thirteen-year-old shop-witch who sometimes wished she was a hero. She wanted to go on adventures, to climb tall mountains and fight dragons. But, instead, she was stuck looking after her parents’ magic shop.
The magic shop was in the village of Elfingham, and it was called Witch Wares Emporium.
Inside, it was like a maze, and instead of a roof it had a huge glass dome that spilled light into every corner. The shelves were packed with things like magic wool that you could use to weave magic clothes, and jars to store memories you didn’t want to forget.
On the floor of the shop were armchairs that hid your most special secrets, umbrellas with silver linings to protect you from bad thoughts, and rugs to sweep your problems under.
Laurel’s parents had nipped out for the morning to go to the town meeting about the dragon crossing. The crossing happened every year, but the witches needed to check that everyone knew what they had to do.
The fire-witches needed to be ready to put out fireballs, and the dung-witches had to clean up all the dragon poop. Laurel’s parents had to make sure their shop was stocked with everything the other witches needed to do their jobs.
Laurel had been waiting all morning for a customer, but so far the only person who’d come in was the seam-witch. She had delivered a new set of red velvet curtains that could predict the weather. The shop was often empty now because a big shopping centre had opened just outside the village, and everyone went there instead.
“I’m bored!” said Laurel to Bedlam, her cat. Bedlam was Laurel’s familiar – a companion that every witch had. “I’ve been cleaning all morning,” Laurel continued, “and there’s still loads to do. Maybe I’ll use a spell to dust the shelves. It would be much quicker.”
“No!” yowled Bedlam. “The last time you tried to do that, you made your father’s eyebrows vanish. We can’t afford to have all of the shop items vanish too.”
“His eyebrows grew back, didn’t they?” Laurel insisted.
“Yes, but it would have been better if you hadn’t made the mistake in the first place.”
“I know,” frowned Laurel. “But that was when I thought ‘tidy’ meant to make something look better, not put it away.”
On Laurel’s school report, her teacher had said she was “a stubborn witch with plenty of spirit”. That meant Laurel could be a good witch, if only she learned from her mistakes. Luckily, she had Bedlam to help her. The only problem was, he didn’t seem to trust her.
Suddenly, Laurel and Bedlam heard the shop bell ring, and their first customer walked in. It was Agatha, the grumpiest witch in the village. She was a garden-witch, in charge of growing all the plants for making potions, which made her feel very important.
“Hello?” Agatha said before she’d even reached the counter. “Is someone going to help me?”
Laurel sighed. “Hello, Agatha.”
“Oh,” said Agatha, looking round in a grumpy way. “I’ve been calling for ages. Didn’t you hear me?”
Laurel smiled sweetly and said, “I’m sorry, Agatha. It won’t happen again,” but she also muttered a secret curse to make Agatha’s stockings slip down her legs and bunch up in her boots in a way that was really annoying. Agatha was always telling Laurel off. It wasn’t fair!
“I need some self-writing parchment,” Agatha said crossly. “And some new polish for my cauldron.”
“We’ve just run out of polish, I’m afraid, but I’ll get your parchment,” said Laurel.
Agatha huffed and puffed. “That’s no good!” she said. “When your grandmother ran the shop, she was never out of stock of anything. I might have to do my shopping at the shopping centre instead. I bet they never run out of things there …”
Laurel wanted to cast another secret spell on Agatha, but she thought Bedlam would find out and tell her off, so she decided to behave herself just this once.
After Agatha left, it took Laurel a very long time to finish all the dusting, mopping and polishing. When she was just about done, the bell rang again.
Laurel was very excited to see who had come in this time: it was a hero!
Heroes often visited the village of Elfingham where Laurel lived. They spent the night at the Croaking Frog Inn, and they sometimes stopped at the shop to get things for their quests. But this was the first time Laurel had served a hero in the shop all by herself.
“Welcome to Witch Wares Emporium,” Laurel said as she rushed up to the counter. “How can I help you today?”
The hero was a girl who looked about the same age as Laurel. She had long brown hair, brown skin and bright brown eyes. Laurel knew she was a hero because she was wearing newly polished boots and had a sword – an actual sword – hanging by her side. Laurel could hardly believe it. She’d only seen a sword once before, at the smith-witch’s workshop, and she’d admired how shiny it was.
“Oh,” said the hero. “Hello. Is this your shop?”
“Yes, all mine,” Laurel lied. She wanted to impress the hero.
“You’re a bit young to run your own shop, aren’t you?” the hero said.
“She’s right, Laurel,” said Bedlam. “Why don’t you tell her the truth?”
Luckily, only witches could understand familiars, so the hero hadn’t heard him.
“You’re a bit young to be a hero, aren’t you?” Laurel replied, ignoring Bedlam.
The hero shrugged. “It’s my first quest, actually. I’ve got a list of things I need. Can you help?”
“Of course,” said Laurel. She took a rolled-up scroll from the hero, which had a long list written on it. Laurel read out some of the items:
3 pairs of riding socks –
charmed to stay warm
A sweet-dream blanket and
pillow set
1 all-weather tent –
enchanted to fold up small
Super-strength armour
“I nearly went to that new shopping centre just outside your village,” explained the hero. “But my horse wanted a rest, so I decided to try here instead.” She looked around as if she thought she’d made a mistake.
Laurel quickly scanned the list and then grinned. “I can sort this out for you,” she said.
“You can?” said the hero. “Oh, thank you! I’ve been so stressed out. My quest is to return some stolen dragon treasure before the dragon crossing comes to an end and they all return to their caves.”
“But the dragon crossing is happening right now!” said Laurel, alarmed. “You’d better get going quickly.”
“I know,” said the hero. “But I wasn’t allowed to start until my thirteenth birthday …”
Laurel had a
“Oh,” said the hero. “And how long does that take?”
“About two hours,” explained Laurel. “I’ll need to enchant the socks, pillow and tent, of course.” Laurel actually needed her parents to enchant them because she still wasn’t very good at doing complicated spells. But she didn’t want the hero to know this.
“Wonderful,” said the hero, then she followed Laurel round the whole shop, commenting about things as Laurel found them.
“Oh, actually, do you have those socks in orange?” asked the hero.
“Sorry?” said Laurel, looking down at the three pairs of green socks she’d picked off the shelf. “Oh, I can make them orange for you, yes …”
Laurel muttered a quick spell and the socks actually turned orange. The last time she’d tried the same spell on her favourite T-shirt, she’d set it on fire.
“And if it isn’t too much trouble,” the hero went on, “can you make my pillow extra fluffy? I can’t sleep otherwise.”
Was the hero going to have an opinion on everything? Laurel thought. At this rate, she’d never get through the list!
“Of course I can make your pillow extra fluffy,” said Laurel. She was feeling annoyed, but she didn’t put a bad spell on the hero the way she had on Agatha. Instead, she said, “Why don’t you head back to the Croaking Frog Inn and relax while I sort all of this out for you?”
“Relax?” said the hero, as if Laurel had said a rude word. “Oh, I don’t relax. When you’re a hero, you’re up before the sun, and you train all day every day. And when you aren’t doing that, you’re grooming your horse. And when you aren’t doing that, you’re—”
“That sounds like really hard work,” Laurel said. “But if you relax now, you’ll have lots more energy for your quest.”
“That’s a good point,” said the hero, “you’re right! And you’re sure you don’t need me?”
“I’m sure!” said Laurel.
With the hero now gone, Laurel could get to work at last. The next thing she found was the tent. It was stacked at the very top of a wobbly mountain of tables and chairs. Laurel didn’t trust herself to use magic to get it down, so instead she got out the shop’s never-ending ladder and climbed up to the ceiling. Would she ever get to climb a real mountain? Laurel wondered.
By mid-afternoon, Laurel was nearly finished. There was just one thing left on the list – super-strength armour. But where was it? Laurel couldn’t find it anywhere!
Bedlam had been napping on his favourite cushion by the window, but he woke up just as Laurel made her way back to the front of the shop. He yawned and arched his back.
“What a wonderful sleep,” he said. “So relaxing.”
“Good for you,” Laurel snapped. “You know, you could have helped a little.”
“It’s good for you to do things on your own,” said Bedlam. “How else will you learn?”
Laurel sighed. “Why can’t you be like other familiars? They like their witches.”
Bedlam thought about this for a moment. “I’ll be nice to you when you learn to do proper spells.”
“I did do a spell, actually,” said Laurel. “I turned some green socks orange.”
“And you didn’t set them on fire like you did with your T-shirt?” Bedlam asked.
“Nope!” said Laurel. Maybe she was getting the hang of magic at last.
“How was the shop today?” Laurel’s father asked when her parents got home.
Her mum came around the counter to look at the till. “Ah, only one customer?” she asked.
Laurel was a perfect mix of her parents: she had short, wavy brown hair like her father, and thick lashes and olive skin like her mother.
“Actually,” said Laurel, “a hero came in.” She said the word like it was a present wrapped up in glittery paper. “I haven’t put her stuff through the till yet, but I’ve got loads of things for her!”
“A hero?” her father said. He sounded impressed.
Laurel nodded. “She had a sword.”
“We haven’t had a hero come in for a while,” her mum replied. “Everyone goes to the shopping centre these days. What did she want to buy?”
Laurel showed them the hero’s list, as well as the pile of items she’d put together from all around the shop. “I even did a spell to turn the socks orange,” she said with a big grin.
“And they didn’t catch on fire?” asked her father.
“Nope!” Laurel said proudly. “The only thing I didn’t find was the armour. Where do we keep it?”
“Ah,” said her mum. “We keep it in the storeroom, but we’ve sold out. We’re getting some more in the next week or so. When does your hero need it?”
“Oh no!” groaned Laurel. “She has to complete her quest before the end of the dragon crossing. Can’t we get the armour any sooner?”
“I’m afraid not,” said her mum. “At least you’ve got all of the other stuff.”
“I guess,” said Laurel, but she still felt disappointed. “Can you help me enchant them?”
She showed her mum the list again, and her mum quickly cast spells on everything. Laurel couldn’t wait until she was as good as her mum at doing magic.
“Right,” said Laurel’s dad. “I’m off to get a sandwich before the baker-witch runs out of my favourite.”
“Oh, get me one, please,” said her mum. “The usual.”
“Laurel?” asked her father. “Want your usual too?”
“Can’t,” said Laurel. “I need to get all of this stuff over to the hero.”
“I’ll have a sandwich, please,” said Bedlam.
“No, you won’t!” replied Laurel. “You’re coming with me.”
Bedlam sighed. “I wish I’d picked that inn-witch instead of you – she has plenty of snacks and a hot kitchen to nap in,” he muttered as he and Laurel set off.
*
The Croaking Frog Inn was full of customers. The inn-witch served thermal soup to keep you warm in cold weather, and humble pie to stop you getting too boastful. In the corner, the bard-witch was playing enchanting music that made you feel free and happy.
Witches from all over the land sat around tables. Their familiars were all there too – toads and hawks, dogs and ferrets; even a tiny pony. And in one corner, all on her own and looking nervous, was the hero.
Laurel and Bedlam walked over to the hero’s table and sat down. “I’m Laurel,” she said. “I forgot to tell you my name when you came to the shop.”
The hero looked up quickly and smiled.
“I’m Aliya,” she said. “Did you get everything I asked for?”
“Oh … Well, we haven’t got the armour,” said Laurel. “But I have everything else.”
Aliya frowned. She shook her head. “No, that’s no good. Unless you have it all, I won’t buy any of it. I’ll just stop by the shopping centre tomorrow morning.”
“What?” said Laurel, shocked at her response. “But I spent all afternoon collecting everything. I turned the socks orange … I even made the pillow extra fluffy like you asked!”
The hero sat up. “Well, I’m sorry,” she said – in a way that sounded as if she weren’t sorry at all. “But I have more important things to worry about than all of that. If I don’t get that armour, I’ll have to go back home and tell my family I’ve failed my quest.”
Laurel was really angry. “You think you’re so important, don’t you?” she said. “But where would you heroes be without us witches? You want us to fetch your armour and camping stuff and everything else, and you don’t even say thank you.”
