To hear the story narration and learn how I put the episode together, check out this video:
*****
There's a story I heard once, some time ago. It goes like this:
One day, two monks were walking along and came across an old woman who was trying to cross a river. Because the river was wide and flowed quickly, she feared for her safety. The junior of the two monks passed by her and crossed. The elder of the two offered to help. She climbed onto his back and he carried her safely across. Many hours later, the elder noticed the junior had something to say and so asked him what was on his mind. The junior monk confronted the elder, saying, "We are forbidden to consort with women, let alone have any sort of physical contact with them. And yet you allowed that old woman to climb onto your back!". The elder monk replied, "I left her at the river bank, but you have been carrying her with you for hours."
One idea (of the many interpretations possible) is that you act and that once you have, to let it go. It's supposed to remind you to stay in the present moment.
Try as I might, the episode with the mayor is still on my back! It's done, dealt with, over, finished. And, you'd think after everything I'd experienced in Blastfire Bog (which, let's be honest, was incredibly cool! Super strange? Yes. Exhausting? Also yes. But so worth it!), I'd have exorcised the whole thing. But... I hadn't. It was still niggling at me, still occupying my mind, still slung on my back like an involuntary backpack.
I needed to do something that would give me something else to focus on. Business had been good, I had plenty of silver, and so a bit of retail therapy might be the thing. If I couldn't exercise the thoughts away, maybe I could spend them away. Which is why I was on my way to Bits & Bobs. If nothing else, spending some time with Bob would be a lovely thing.
Once in town, I noticed a couple of things. One was that there were more people out and about than I'd seen before. I didn't recognize anyone, not that that was any surprise given how little time I'd spent in the town and how few, relatively, people I'd treated. What was a surprise was how quiet people got when they spotted me. I tried telling myself it was because they were seeing a witch and that it carried some weight. But I didn't believe me.
At Bits & Bobs, Madam Wintergleam was finishing up a transaction, chatting away with Bob. That is up until I entered. Actually - not quite true - it wasn't until she noticed who had entered that her pleasantries quickly petered out. She avoided looking at me, bid Bob a fine day, and left. She didn't even acknowledge my greeting. I decided it was because she hadn't gotten over my quitting her class. I was already carrying the mayor - there was no way I was going to carry more!
I greeted Bob and he returned it, but... it was awkward. There was definitely something going on, Bob definitely knew what, and I was definitely not leaving until I'd found out what it was.
"Bob, originally I came here to do a bit of shopping. But now that I think on it, I'm here for two things: a bit of shopping, and to find out why everyone is acting so weird."
He smiled at me, nearly sincerely, before asking if there was anything in particular I had my eye on.
"Yes. The truth. What's going on?"
He deflated a bit, grimaced, then said, "There's a rumour going around saying that you and the mayor are... um..."
I didn't like where that was going, but I wasn't going to have the rest of the sentence left unsaid. "We're what, Bob?"
He refused to look me in the eye. "An... um... affair. People think you are having an affair with the mayor."
"An affair? Why in the world would anyone think that?"
With the terrible secret rumour no longer secret, he started talking a bit more freely. "The other night. The mayor had had a lot to drink. Before he left The Copper Fox, he announced he was going to your cottage to, as he put it, 'show that upstart of a girl who's in charge of High Rannoc'. And people watched as he staggered towards your place. It was his not returning until late the next morning that the whispers started."
Fury started to burn inside me, but it quickly died out with the memory of that fat, hungover, half-naked man falling awkwardly out of my tree. "Ummm... ok...", I said at first, then tried to say the rest without my laughter interrupting. "Bob, did you and I have an affair when you came to me for help?"
He still looked miserable, still wouldn't meet my gaze. "They're saying you're a home wrecker. He has kids."
"Bob", I repeated, "Did you and I have any sort of inappropriate anything when you came for treatment for your cludgie mouth?"
He mumbled, "no".
"No." Then, after a deep breath, I continued, "I don't know what the mayor was thinking when he was drunk or why he said what he said. I won't talk about anything concerning my patients - any of them", and I looked sharply at Bob, "but please know that nothing inappropriate or unprofessional occurred between he and I."
Bob just nodded, dumbly.
"I don't know if anyone will believe me and frankly I don't care", which was an obvious lie, but what the heck, "but of all the people in this wretched town who I want to know the truth, it's you."
He gave a little laugh, if a bit forced. "I'm sure this'll just blow over in time. It's just a rumour..."
Yeah, right. There was no way this rumour was going to blow over quickly. Mentally I watched as my reputation, my business, my livelihood, was going to be destroyed by an arrogant drunk. The laughter in my soul tamped down as that scenario played out in my head.
I needed to get out. Quickly. It was too much. Just all too much. But I couldn't get myself to step out the door, let alone walk another gauntlet of unspoken judgemental shame. So I grinned (against everything I was feeling), forced myself to stand up straight, and asked if he had any brooms for sale.
Talking merchandise seemed to put more normalcy back into the room. "Oh sure. All sorts really. Different handle lengths, bristle types, wood choices, colours..."
I interrupted. "Flying ones. Do you have any of those?"
"Ah. Of course. Flying ones. Of course..."
I closed my eyes. "Bob? What is it now?"
He cleared his throat. "Well, uh... I do have one. She's not much, but I..."
"Great. I'll take it."
"Would you like to see it first?"
"Nope. How much is it?"
"It's... uh... would you like a helmet?"
"Nope. How much?"
"Ah... do you need instructions on flying her?"
"No."
"Ah... right. Ok. I'll just package it up for you and..."
"No need. You go get it. I'll leave silver on the counter and meet you out back."
"Ok. Great. I'll..."
"How much silver should be waiting on the counter for you?"
"I... ah... would 100 be asking too much?"
"100 it is. I'll count it out while you get it."
Bob stepped out and I just stood there, shaking. Of all the patients I'd seen, and a few of them had stayed overnight at the cottage while I'd collected reagents, why had this particular patient triggered such a rumour. No doubt his announcement to The Copper Fox patrons has been important - but has that been all? Was it being helped along by someone? And if so, why?
I shook my head to clear it, tried once again to take off the mayoral backpack that had now seemingly fused itself to me, counted the silver onto the counter, and went out the back to see my new purchase. Given Bob's hesitancy, I didn't expect to see much. I wasn't disappointed.
Brooms can come in a variety of shapes and types. Most, of course, don't fly. But of the ones that do, you can't simply look at it to know if it flies. There's a... magical feeling, I guess is what I'm trying to say. And not everyone resonates with every broom. I'll note that I knew none of this before I talked with Bob. MouseEye told me all this after I got home. So while I could've just paid a huge amount of money to sweep my floors, it turns out I lucked out again.
If the land is responsible for my run of luck, it has to be working overtime!
When I first laid eyes on the broom, I instantly saw what Bob saw - an ill-kept, bristle-bare, knotted and mottled handled relic of a prior age.
"Here it is, Mistress." Bob pointed to it almost apologetically. "I bought it as part of an estate sale, of sorts. I was given an inventory list and, ah... this was listed as a flying broom. I paid top silver for it. Sight unseen, you see. I've just been storing it, not sure what to do with it, and um... I hope you're happy with your purchase. Of course, if it isn't to your satisfaction, I'll give you a full refund."
I heard Bob and I guess on one level I listened, but on another I was connecting to this unsightly thing. But there was more here than met the eye.
"Of course, it's an older model so doesn't have the lumbar support or the new cushioned memory-bristles that are being produced now. Of course those can go for a lot more than 100 silver, so I hope you feel, after setting eyes on her, it's fair."
Deep within it's twisted handle, arcing from its half-circle burst of bristles (I couldn't identify what they were made of), there was something. Subtle, for sure. But undeniable. She was perfect.
He had it propped up, bristles up, next to the door. "Here, let me get it for you." As Bob reached for it, it shot past his closing hand and landed neatly in mine.
Bob looked over his shoulder at me and the broom that had just come to life. "Oh! I didn't know you're an experienced broom wrangler!"
I didn't say anything. I couldn't. I was deep in the experience of the broom and all that she was. After a few seconds, I released her and had her hold steady for mounting. Now - there's a misconception that all flying brooms are flown by sitting on the handle. Not true! Not only would it be terribly uncomfortable, it'd be absolutely unstable! It'd be so easy to slide off to one side as the broom did a barrel roll the other way! Which is why most brooms have you sit cross-legged on the bristles. I climbed on, kicked off the ground, and launched. My eyes were pointed at the sky - I didn't want to look back and down at High Rumour-ville.
That load I'd been carrying? Gone. The confusion and hurt from hearing the ridiculous rumour? Disappeared. My anger at it all? Evaporated. Eviscerated. Eliminated. And I was simply elated. It felt so good to be flying again.
Just for kicks, I flew through a cloud. That feeling of the air whooshing past - what a rush! And the trail I left in the sky, dragging a bit of cloud along! In that moment, I named her: Vapour Trail.
I was like a kid in a candy shop. No - I was like a dog (one of those breeds that loves water) playing on a riverbank. No - I was like myself lingering in a warm bed on a cool morning. I just loved every minute and I really, really didn't want to stop. So I didn't! I swooped and swerved and dove and climbed - if I could think of it, Vapour Trail could do it.
There was one moment where I did start thinking about a barrel roll and Vapour Trail started rolling! But it was that errant thought that led to an amazing discovery - my butt was held to the bristles like iron to a magnet. I inverted all the way through the roll and, while discombobulating, wasn't fatal. Good to know!
After flying for a few hours, I decided to take the opportunity to land and stretch my legs. Sitting cross-legged is only comfortable for so long! I found an island within the Cloud Isles with a pond and some trees for shade. It was good to lay back on my own private island! And to take a dip (or three!) in my private swimming pool. Aaahhhhh... the world with all its cares and concerns and troubles was down there This place, this peaceful, solitary place, was just lovely. I think if I ever retire from witching, I'll set myself up here.
As good as it all felt - the warm sun, the cool water, the comforting shade - I also wanted to feel the wind and race across the sky and do loop do loops and be silly.
The day was getting on and I was getting tired, but I also wanted to check out one last place. I'd spotted an island that sported a large cave - the mouth of which was so big I could fly into it. I couldn't resist!
I flew more cautiously as I entered the cave. It was a little tight, but totally workable. With the discovery, I found myself wondering if I'd ever walk anywhere ever again!
Looking at the textures within the cave walls was like looking at clouds and seeing different shapes and things. Here a wing, there a serpentine body, over there a giant closed eye. It was fun letting my imagination run free!
And then my imagination started working overtime, seeing myself as I flew hither and yon with kids coming out from houses and buildings, pointing up at me as I came to visit. It felt so good, so affirming as the local witch.
A sound, I suppose what I imagined the kids would sound like, escaped through my lips. And it echoed. What fun! Echoes! And so I let loose with a little bit of nonsensical song and played with the sound bouncing back. The roar that followed wasn't expected. Nor the two eyes that opened deeper in the cave. It was then that I realized the winged snake shape I'd disregarded was: one - not part of the cave but instead lived in it, and two - it was a wyvern.
There was a part of me, for a quick second, that tried discerning whether the creature in front of me was a wyvern or a dragon. That small part stopped its zoological classification and instead decided to table the discussion for later.
The wyvern made to launch at me and I found myself drifting backwards. I didn't know the broom came with reverse but I'm glad it did!
I got clear of the cave mouth then shot off, hoping the wyvern would either lose interest (with me now being gone) or would lose sight of me and break off its pursuit. Neither happened.
All the practice I'd gotten in was paying dividends. I wasn't losing it, but I wasn't being snatched out of the sky and turned into wyvern food. Every move I tried it responded to. Each attempt to out race, out spin, or out roll it didn't work. It nearly got me time and again. I didn't dare stop, didn't dare land and hide, didn't dare do anything. I couldn't lose it in the cloud or two that was up here. I needed a plan.
And then I spotted my chance. Laughing out loud with fear and hope, I knew it was a desperate move, but I had nothing left. I flew into a canyon of sorts being formed as two big islands drifted close to each other. It narrowed so much that it could fit me but couldn't accommodate the wyvern's wingspan - it had to maneuver itself to keep from being crushed. After shooting through the gap, I dashed for a nearby forested hiding spot and hunkered down.
They wyvern wasn't ready to give up, instead flying all around the canyon I'd exited, plus the islands surrounding it (including my current hiding spot). It wasn't until well after sundown that it finally relented and left.
After all the excitement, you'd think I'd've made my way home. And you'd be right. To a point. You see, as I started my way back (or what I assumed was the way back), I spotted blue-green light coming from a height and I just had to check it out.
There are two things I learned: one - there is a lighthouse on top of Moonbreaker Mountain, and two - it emits the most beautiful... it's not quite light, but also not quite water. When I told MouseEye about it later, he said it's called plasma. I called it fun! I could fly through it and have trails of it swirl in my wake. I must've done that for... well... I lost track of time. Maybe it wasn't that long but it felt like I spent all night playing.
It was still night, however, when I got my bearings and finally headed home. I landed, stretched, yawned. Spent though I was, my spirit was still riding a high. I dragged my aching body into the cottage, broom in tow.
The welcome glow of Pop helped settle me. I was back in my home, my space, my safe space. I breathed a sigh of relief. MouseEye looked up from his place inside the spirit house. "I see you bought a broom. And I'm guessing you went up to the Cloud Isles. What'd you do up there?"
A mischievous grin crossed my face. "You want me to tell you about my adventures today?"
MouseEye closed his eyes, knowing full well what was coming, but still played along. "Yes. Tell me about your adventures today. What did you do? Tell me everything."
Without giving the necessary pause to give the answer the punch it deserves, I jumped in with, "Must I?"
Smiling at each other, sharing in the joke, we laughed. And then we watched, each from our own vantage point, as Pop began to change in hue, in intensity, in colour. She began to expand at the middle and dip at the poles, and then, suddenly, she divided into two Pops. Each the same size as the other, floating side by side, indistinguishable. Then one of them floated over to the broom and attached itself to the end of the handle, making a running light of sorts.
MouseEye's and my gaze met again and with a mutual shrug of incomprehension, we wondered what else this night would bring.
