Quiet. Blessedly quiet. The crackle of the occasional stick popping open in the hearth as I sit and sip and relax. It seems life has become either frantically busy as I run around gathering necessary reagents, dealing with the environs where I have to go to find them, or the blessed peace in between cases. I know I'm needed here - every time someone needs help and I'm able to provide it demonstrates just how much I'm needed. But what I want is more of this. Peace. Solitude. Harmony.
On the flip side, the last couple of weeks has been full of time off. Aside from cleaning up endless messes! I suppose I should be grateful that the last encounter didn't end up with my place a total wreck. Who would've thought a vampiric necromancer could use a mop?
Thank you, cottage, for not laying that cleaning job on me!
And also on the flip side - I've been doing quite nicely for myself monetarily. I think it's about time that I added something to the cottage. Or something that will assist me as I go about the gathering of potion-makings. And for that, it's to the village I go. I'm sure Bob will have just the thing. Even if I'm not sure what that thing is yet.
I gathered up a few things and prepared to head out. As I stopped in front of the spirit house to let it know my intention to head off, I spotted MouseEye in what has become his place in the structure. He opened an eye. "Heading out?"
"Yes. To the village. And I think you should come too. Visibly."
He just looked at me. "Must I?"
"I think it would be good for you. I know you like to watch and observe, mostly out of sight, but I think you should consider being visible at times too."
He didn't move. He just laid there and looked at me.
*Sigh*. Fine. "Yes, MouseEye. You must."
He took his turn to sigh. "Ok."
As we headed to High Rannoc, MouseEye on my shoulder, I talked. About how well things were going. About all the things we'd seen and done. About all the adventures we'd had. MouseEye kept up an unenthusiastic "mmm hmm" to each of my observations. So I stopped talking. And instead let my mind wander to an imagined stock of goods at Bob's shop. Nothing really inspired my excitement, even when I dreamed of impossible things like trees that cut themselves down, chopped themselves up, and stacked themselves as firewood, or a scullery that magically did all the dishes. Oh well - I'm sure actually seeing Bob's inventory will cure me of needing to dream of something worthwhile.
"MouseEye? What do you think I'll buy today?"
"Mmm hmm."
Maybe this wasn't the best idea. Anyway - I'm not letting a certain someone's attitude ruin my day! I'm going shopping and that's that! Unwilling companion or no.
It's hard to ignore the sorry state of the boundary between High Rannoc and the rest of the world, try as I might. I hope those large timbers aren't actually needed to keep things out. And I really hope that because I'm outside those walls! Ha! Me - first line of defence against bandits, monsters, and who knows what else. And to be fair, one necromancer might be less inclined to cause trouble.
Those thoughts got me thinking - maybe I am a bit of a buffer between things Out There and In Here. But before I could take that thought any further, I arrived at Bits & Bobs.
Bob, as usual, was attentive, patient, and very willing to show off his stock. But as I looked at various items, nothing seemed to... fit. Nothing was quite right. My anticipation of buying something was quickly draining away and I found myself wanting to tearfully apologize for wasting his time. Which is when Bob asked the fateful question. "Have you considered expanding the areas you search for reagents?"
That stopped me. Yes. Yes! YES!!! That was the thing. I was suddenly transported to traveling to the Cloud Isles in Madcap's balloon. That would be amazing! That would be...!
"I have a friend. Bit of an eccentric but can weave wood like nothing I've ever seen. He makes boats. Calls 'em 'coracles'. They're not much more than a bit of circular dryness on top of boggy bogginess, but one of those would mean you could navigate through Blastfire Bog. Not that I'd suggest that to most anyone, but then again, you're not most anyone."
The bog? It's... well... it's not flying, that's for sure. But... going out in a small boat to explore a new area, gather new and unique items... yes. Yes! YES!!! Sold! I'm in! How exciting!
Bob and I traded items - he got seventy silver and I got a paper to take to the coracle maker, Cunk, to show I'd paid properly. So exciting! I couldn't wait to have my first sail. Or row, I suppose - coracles don't have a mast. Or a rudder. Or a keel. But what my boat will have is a fine rower.
I stepped out of the shop with a pep to my step. The sun was a little brighter, the flowers a bit more colourful, the... why is someone walking at me? Why... I think he was in the herbology school? And I'm sure I don't know his name...
"Hey! Loser! What are you doing here? You quit! So go home back to your mommy!"
Ah. Well isn't this delightful? "Sorry, do I know you?"
"Yeah, you know me. You're such a failure that you don't even remember who was in your class."
Ok. Tongue - stay put. Feet - start moving. Eyes - look away. Mouth... oooh, why won't you listen? "Sorry, I have to go. So... see you."
He grabbed my arm. "And I see a rodent, a pathetic mouse, on your shoulder. That's your familiar? Ha ha! What a joke!"
I bristled. I stopped and turned. "Take your hands off of me."
"Why? You going to cry?"
"No. But you will." I didn't say that. MouseEye did. And then he jumped from my shoulder onto my attacker's neck, and then slid down under his shirt. What happened next was that the boy let go of me and clasped his chest as he screamed in pain. A small red circle started to appear on his shirt. As the boy turned to run away, crying, MouseEye slid out from the shirt cuff and jumped back onto my shoulder. "It's not like I bit him all that hard. But it is all about placement."
Time to leave before anything more happens!
*****
Blastfire Bog extends from the edge of Glimmerwood Grove forest and off to the edges of the Moonbreaker Mountain range. It's a huge expanse that houses all sorts of unique life. Including bog goblins. Which includes at least one who tried (and failed) to sell Bob inactive Fentoad Scurf and who also tried (and succeeded) in cursing him.
And here I was, off to see someone named "Cunk". I guessed I was about to have dealings with an industrious goblin. Hopefully I wouldn't end up with a curse of my own.
As we walked to the Bog, MouseEye and I talked about the encounter in the village. And about changes - the very same topic I'd been musing on earlier. After the encounter with Richard, Count von Rannoc, and how the land had defended itself, I felt little fear about being waylaid by a jealous boy. Or, if he has friends, a pack of them. I didn't feel invincible, but I did feel much safer than I would have even a couple of weeks ago.
Oh, how fast things can change!
After a while, we found the piece of shore, if there can be a shore to a bog, where Cunk has his workshop. As we approached it, we called out to let Cunk know we were approaching. There's no sense in staying quiet if that causes a started curse-wielding someone to start hurling magic at you before getting a chance to think!
Cunk - how to describe him? Start with what you think a bog goblin looks like, then add unsettling clever eyes and a bearing that gets you thinking that if bog goblins have royalty, here before you stands a likely family member. Even his smell, while strong, wasn't putrid. Exactly. Maybe he'd bathed in the bog recently.
He came out of his shack, cautious, wary, but curious. His eyes were clearly taking us in. "Yeah. What?", he half-yelled.
"I just bought a coracle. I've paid Bob. Here's the paper." I held it up to show him.
"Come." Cunk turned around and entered his shack. I did my best to prepare for the enclosed version of Cunk.
The shack wasn't much beyond his coracle workshop. Strips of wood were all over, some bits woven already, others being prepared. He also had a large pot over the fire; the odour was some sort of adhesive or perhaps sealant. Maybe this was how he kept water out. In a corner was some straw and a blanket. Cunk had made his way to a bare patch of his worktable. He slapped it. "Show."
I put the paper down and stepped back. He took it, made at least a show of reading it (whether he could actually read it is another question), smelled it, then said, "Ok. Follow." We went out the other door and into what must have been his storage area. He had a few boats leaning up against trees. "Pick."
They all looked the same to me. So I asked for some help. "Which one is best?"
"All best."
Ok. Thanks for the help. As I started looking at each one, he followed (I didn't need to see him to know he was close, if you know what I mean). As I looked at one, he said, "Big. Carry lots. Paddle hard."
Now that was useful. I hadn't considered that the size of the boat would affect the difficulty to use it.
I looked at another. "Small. Carry little. Paddle easy. Lift easy. You small. Maybe best."
And that's how I ended up with Miss Bogfire, the finest, smallest, most nimblest coracle on the Blastfire Bog seas. Cunk carried it easily to a small dock. "Dock here. Ok." And there was another thought I hadn't even contemplated yet - where to keep it when it wasn't in use. But... wouldn't he want some compensation for keeping it at his dock? "I can keep it somewhere so that it's not in your way."
He looked at me for a second, then said, "Better here. Water up, water down, coracle here, no coracle gone." I started to give that a thought when he added, "You witch, yes?"
I said I was.
"Help Bob, yes?"
I said I had.
"Keep here. Better."
I thanked him, but asked, "Did you give Boby the cludgy mouth?"
He looked shocked. "Me? No. Stupid, greedy goblin. Live in bog. You sail, you meet."
I was taken back to when I'd wanted to hear how a certain vampire wasn't going to be a problem. I found myself wishing for the same basic thing, only replacing vampire with goblin. But I was also feeling brave(r), so I decided it was time for a maiden voyage.
I'd heard, at some time or other, that when big sailing ships are launched, they are christened using some sort of bubbly wine. Having nothing like that on hand, I scooped a handful of bubbling bog water, dribbled it onto the gunnel, and had a quick naming ceremony. I also asked that if she ever felt like sinking that she do so without me onboard. Cunk chuckled.
With that done, I set off. It took a few minutes to get used to it. A circular boat doesn't cut through the water so much as unwillingly running it over. So going forward was an effort. Spinning in a circle, however - it was brilliant at doing that. Even when I really didn't want to.
Like I said, it took a bit to get used to. But I did get going and set off across the water. And the islets. And the trees and reeds and...
"MouseEye? How am I supposed to navigate back home? Everything looks the same."
He just yawned. "I watch."
"So you can get me back? From wherever?"
"Mmm hmm."
I didn't want to go too far out. Initially. But as I found a rhythm, I just kept going deeper in.
After a while, I pulled up on a small dry-ish island. It felt good to hop off, stretch my legs (they were folded under me during my paddling) and looked around. It was very open, very bright - nothing taller than large scruffy bushes got in the way of the sky. The air hummed with insects of all sorts. Happily, none of them were hungry for witch's blood.
I remembered an addendum to the old witch's notes about reagents growing specifically, and only, in the Bog. On a lark, I began to dig next to where I was sitting. And found Milkroot. In a minute I had a good-sized tuber. Into the boat it, and we, went. Rest time was over!
Off we went in a different direction and came to another small islet - this one covered in mushrooms and other low growth. It looked the perfect place for faire folk to gather. And I was right! Their dust (quite glittery) was all over. It took a bit to gather some up, pinch by pinch, but I did eventually have a nice amount.
It was starting to get later in the day, so I started heading in the general direction of back home, but I took an alternate route. As I paddled, I started hearing the unmistakeable sounds of toads. I had to go look.
As I paddled closer to the islet where the sounds were coming from, toads began to jump, panicked. Towards me. Which was really weird. Until my nose picked up the indescribable reek of bog goblin. Several goblin heads suddenly rose above the grasses, toads continued to jump in all sorts of directions, including towards me, and in all the pandemonium, or perhaps toademonium (there being no pandas here), a large toad ended up in my boat and scooted under the seat.
The goblins, who up to this point had been focused solely on toads, spotted me, There were grunts, screams, yells, and a couple of loud belches. One in particular looked enraged. "You! Thief! Steal toads!"
I started to backpaddle as fast as I could. Meanwhile, most of the goblins ran to the water's edge and stopped. However, the really angry one looked around desperately, then started to grab and throw handfuls of mud at me. Goblin + anger + mud = bad aim.
I paddled away from there as fast as I could.
After a few minutes, I felt safe enough to stop, listen, and assess. No sounds of pursuit. No crashing of angry goblins in the undergrowth or swimming my way. No sounds but for one quiet, perhaps grateful?, croaking from under my seat.
I peeked underneath. It peered out back.
"You're safe."
It just stayed in place.
"I can set you on land somewhere."
Again, no movement.
"I'm heading home. Back to my cottage. I'm a witch, by the way. Mistress Sweetwater, at your service."
It croaked. Within that croak I swear I heard "home". Well... ok. "Can I call you Fen? Short for Fentoad?"
Another croak. The meaning was more complicated, and to be honest I didn't understand most of it, but I think part of it was acceptance.
Not much happened after that (thank goodness). I was guided back home by both MouseEye and Fen (there were a couple of times they argued over the best way back). I pulled up at the dock and was met by Cunk. "You meet! Ha! Have toad! Ha ha! Welcome back!"
I unloaded the coracle and then went to help pull it out of the water. "You go. Goblin come. Sun go." I thanked Cunk, then headed home.
The walk back was entirely uneventful. MouseEye on one shoulder, Fen on the other, not a word spoken among the three of us.
When we got back, Fen found a spot outside, near the spring where I collect water, to live. MouseEye settled back into his usual perch in the spirit house. And I brewed a lovely cup of tea and reflected again on just how fast things can change.
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