He went on and on for three days and three nights. The farther he went, the more inhospitable became the country. Before him stretched a waste of mountains, behind him a waste of mountains with no living creature in sight.
Wearied with his long journey, he threw himself on the ground. His silver sword clanked sharply and at its sound twenty-four ravens circled above him, cawed in fright, and flew away.
“A good sign!” cried the prince. “I’ll follow the ravens again!”
So on he went as fast as his legs could carry him until he came in sight of a tall castle. It was still far away, but even at that distance it shone and flashed, for it was built of pure silver.
In front of the castle stood an old woman, bent with age, and leaning on a long silver staff. This was the second Yezibaba.
“Yi, yi, my boy!” she cried. “How did you get here? Why, not even a little bird or a tiny butterfly comes here, much less a human being. You’d better escape if life is dear to you, or my son, when he comes home, will eat you!”
“No, no, old mother, he won’t eat me. I bring greetings from his brother of the Leaden Castle.”
“Well, if you bring greetings from the Leaden Castle you are safe enough. Come in, my boy, and tell me your business.”
“My business? For a long time, old mother, I’ve been looking for the Glass Hill and the Three Citrons, but I can’t find them. So I’ve come to ask you whether you could tell me something about them.”
“No, my boy, I don’t know anything about the Glass Hill. But wait until my son comes. Perhaps he can help you. In the meantime hide yourself under the bed and don’t come out until I call you.”