Also Spring, Week 10 - Starts With a Whirlwind, Ends With a Nut

To hear the narration and learn how I put this episode together, check out this video:

*****

 A whirlwind. It's been an absolute whirlwind. And a certain someone, who can safely be called my favourite bard in the world, sits at its centre. Wherever she is, song seemingly bursts forth! We can be walking in the woods with no one around for kilometres and then, seemingly out of the air, there's music! Aside from the various faerie folk who can appear, the birds themselves change from simple calls to songs! Melodies, harmonies, even percussion! (Although, to be fair, the percussion is more often squirrels banging nuts together, deer scraping antlers against trees, or frogs croaking, or... this girl is like music magic incarnate! And while I continue to gawk and gape, she just joins in, like it's the most normal thing in the world. I guess it makes sense that, for her it is, but it still blows me away. She just watches my jaw drop and laughs.

Such joyousness. Pure effervescence. And it's so infectious! Admittedly, I like my quiet, my calm, my solitude, but I can't help but be caught up in her energy, her fun, her joy.

She's been playing at The Copper Fox regularly, consistently drawing crowds. And those crowds are growing! Which makes sense; the Spring Festival is approaching. Vendors and exhibitors are slowly but surely arriving, setting up tents, wagons, and even little mobile homesteads outside High Rannoc's decaying gates. A lot of what is being vended is food - all sorts of things being served. Some roasted over flavourful wood, others marinated in different types of sauces and rubs. Most of them are mouth-wateringly delicious. Of course there's always that one stall that sells something that, enjoyed by some, is heart-stoppingly, disgustingly,... yuck! (Which, for whatever reason, is mobbed by teenage boys daring each other to eat more of whatever it is that they're serving).

Anyway! I've been spending time at the cottage keeping it up but also spending a lot of time in town. Aside from being a rapt listener as Bess plays, I also help a lot at the tavern. And during that time, I've been able to catch up with Bob, Francie, Robert, and Madame Hightower, along with starting to mend bridges with Madam Wintergleam (my herbology teacher. For all of an hour or two, a couple of months ago), and initiate relationships with others like Mrs. Ruffage (the old witch's cousin). And maybe all this conversation and healing of relationships would've happened naturally, but I can't help but think that Bess, somehow, was helping things along.

The only people I consciously avoided was the mayor and his wife. Aside from the mayor doing nothing to help stem the rumours that his actions had started, his wife, the more I saw and heard, was even more toxic that him. For instance, on reflection, it seemed suspicious that she disappeared right after I cured Bess and didn't start appearing in public again until after her cold, or whatever caused her to dab at her nose repeatedly, was gone. Just one day, days after staying in her house out of public view, she stepped into the tavern, frowned when she spotted Bess, and made some sort of disapproving noise when she started playing her mandolin. But there was no dabbing at her nose or any other sign of sickness. But her voice sounded like it'd been abused, like she'd coughed a lot. It seemed likely Bess had been cursed by this hateful woman.

Note to self - talk to the spirit of the cottage about my suspicions. And discuss setting up protections! I don't want to be attacked by anyone, but in particular not by someone who's malicious, perhaps even malevolent. 

But enough about that situation! Let's talk more about Bess. Like how last night, during a break in her playing, she came up to me, put her arm around my waist, snuggled up close with her head on my shoulder, and just... stayed there. It was close, comfortable, even a little bit exciting. I think my body language just melted into that casual contact; my insides were grinning like an idiot. And then later, after everything was done for the night, she stopped me before I headed home and said we should do something tomorrow. Which was, I think, really today (because it was so late). Anyway, my heart leaped for joy. It's amazing that I slept at all!

Soon enough, either tomorrow came or today continued or... the sun rose. That, I'm sure of! And Bess arrived, riding on Marvin. I was so happy to see her and, considering how that poor donkey must've been put on a tether or in a stall, I was happy he'd be able to wander and roam and stretch his legs. 

"I hope you don't mind that I...", she started.

"No! I'm glad he's here! He's..."

"... he won't be any trouble at all..."

"...very welcome and I'm sure won't be a bother."

"...so, thank you!", Bess exclaimed.

Through all this, Marvin just stood there, watching. Almost like he was waiting. For what, I didn't know.

And then I felt a weight on my head. "Good morning. I hear you have a lovely day not-yet-planned." MouseEye. The mysterious, the mischievous, the mercurial. The now-standing-on-my-head-and-bowing-low-to-Bess.

"I wondered who first greeted me when I first arrived!" Then she stopped and looked at me in confusion. "Is it ok for me to address your familiar directly?"

Before I could answer, MouseEye said, "Of course! And please address all concerns and complaints to me, directly, out of anyone's earshot. Compliments should be given to my mistress - the more detailed the better."

Bess laughed. And then stopped when MouseEye asked, "May I address Marvin directly or should I talk to him through you?"

Like I said, Bess stopped laughing. But Marvin started. A donkey's laugh is... quite the sound. It's like a hee haw on repeat, but with hooves stomping on the ground besides. "I told you they knew." Marvin's voice is deep, sonorous, almost mournful. But as easy to understand as anyone else.

Bess looked at me. "You knew?" It was almost accusatory. 

I was lost for words. Luckily, MouseEye was on a roll. "No. She had no idea. But I... I watch. And listen. So when a supposedly mute farm animal is muttering that he's one of the most intelligent creatures ever in the history of the world, eating hay he wouldn't wish on the least of rodents, let alone on noble beasts like himself, I pay attention."

We were all standing there. Quiet. Confused. 

"I... ummm... no offence meant.", said Marvin.

"None taken. Now, if everyone will allow me, I'll show Marvin where I think some of the tastier grasses and other greens are growing on the land. And some places that could use some extra fertilizer." I felt MouseEye leap off my head, then saw him reappear on Marvin. "Head that way, Runcio."

"I'm not dappled, nor owned by a squire, Mortimer."

"That's funny! You know, there are people in town who think my name is that because..."

"Yeah. I know. You aren't the only one who watches. And listens."

As they rode off, they both nodded to us and MouseEye reached for his non-existent forelock. And their voices faded as they continued to banter, and, I believe, tried to one-up the other.

Bess and I looked at each other.

"Did you understand any of that?", I asked.

"Only the Mortimer bit. I think.", she replied.

"Well, it's not much of a story, but I can tell it over breakfast."

We agreed that I should cook. And while Bess would normally entertain me, she sat back and heard the tale of how MouseEye came to be known as Mortimer in town.

"So... I'm confused. What was the motivation for making up such an elaborate name when Francie asked?"

To be honest, I don't remember why I did it. It made sense at the time. I think. Or not! Which is why the first sounds I made trying to answer Bess' question consisted of "ums", "ahs", false starts, and a fair amount of chuckling. I finally landed on, "I don't know!"

She laughed. "Fair enough. It made sense in the moment. Got it!"

We ate, cleaned up, checked to make sure MouseEye and Marvin were doing ok (they were), then moved on to discussing the adventure du jour. 

"How would you feel about visiting The Cloud Isles?", I asked.

"Sounds fun! Are they isles that are seemingly made of clouds but are otherwise properly on the ground? Or are they more like seemingly ground but are otherwise floating in the air?"

"If I say the second option is much closer to the truth, would that be ok?"

"Ummm... sure. Why not? Let's go!"

Which is how we ended up in front of the cottage, Vapour Trail ready to board, and the two of us getting ready.

"If it's ok with you, I'd like to do something a little different today. You game?" Bess gave me an uncertain smile. "Sure. In for a penny, in for a pound."

I had her stand on the bristles, facing front, with me standing behind with my arms around her waist, keeping us close. And then we lifted off, more like hovered, just a few metres above the ground. I felt her relax as she got used to the sensation of standing and flying. And then I had the broom start on our way. The only difference between my usual flying and now was the gentle way we gained altitude. It took a little longer to get up to the Isles but it was fun and relaxed. Bess enjoyed seeing the lands around the cottage and High Rannoc. And then seeing the undersides of the floating islands closing in closer and closer.

I shared the story about my balloon trip with Madcap. And it was as wonderful to share this time, with Bess seeing the Isles for the first time. It allowed me to relive my first time and also to understand what Madcap must experience every time he beings someone new to this magical place. And in that spirit, I whispered in her ear, "Your wish is my command."

She looked over her shoulder. "My wish is to land somewhere. Like... that island - that big one over there."

Minutes later, we were on the indicated island. She breathed a sigh of relief, then kissed the ground.

"Was it that bad?", I asked, concerned I'd gone too far with my desire to share (and show off).

She laughed. "I got used to it after a bit. But it's nice to be able to walk around! And sit!"

We settled in and looked around. The islands, made of cloud nestled in cloud... it was amazing. We took it all in, walked around, explored the forest growing on this bit of ground... what an adventure!

"Sweet? Do these islands ever crash into each other?"

"I don't know. Why?"

"That island over there is getting awfully close."

I looked where she was looking at the approaching island. I had no idea if they collide but better to be safe than sorry. I ran to where Bess was standing, called for Vapour Trail, then had her grip the broom. "Trust me on this. Don't let go of the handle. We're going to take three strides towards the approaching island. Ready? One! Two! Three!" On three, I had the broom gently life us above the land.

It was effective, but awkward, the two of us gripping the handle of a flying broom as two land masses bumped into each other. And it was interesting, watching as the smaller one (the one we jumped towards) crumpled a bit, becoming smaller, while the pieces of debris floated off. The bigger island (what we had been standing on) had a small ripple, like an earthquake, run over it entirely.

I wondered - if this was how the various islands formed - collisions and joinings and calvings and whatnot. I started wondering if anyone knew the history, the science, the...

"Um... Sweet?"

Bess' voice, normally filled with confidence, sounded a bit panicked. 

"Hi there. I'm not sure what the plan is, but would you mind doing it soon?"

I realized that I'd sent us towards where the smaller island had come from, but hadn't adjusted to where it was now. We were currently holding onto Vapour Trail as we sailed through empty air.

"Sorry! Here... let's do... this...", I said as I aimed the broom towards the smaller island. A few seconds later, we were on firm, or at least floating, ground again.

As we touched down, Bess went immediately onto her knees and kissed the ground. Then, looking at me, amidst a bit of laughing (which held an uncomfortable amount of hysteria), "Ground, I've never fully appreciated the importance of your job until this moment!" And then she half-folded, half-collapsed, ending up on her back, arms outstretched, like she was maximizing contact with the ground. "You, Sweet... do you show all of your guests this good of a time?"

I stood there, dying inside. All I'd wanted to do was to show Bess my world, and here I was scaring her, panicking her, disappointing her. I...

Which is when I more felt than anything else Bess gently hug me. "You are a daredevil. But an amazing daredevil. You kept your head, kept us safe... I mean, yes, scared the bejeebers out of me... but you!" Her laughter, thankfully, had lost its edge. "How about we agree that we have no more adventures today. Is that ok?"

I was just about to agree when another adventure reared its head. Or "baaa'ed" plaintively is more accurate. Stepping out from behind some rocks, a sheep slowly, shyly, approached. "Baaa!"

Bess and I both began asking each other, ourselves, and I think the air, how a sheep had gotten onto this island. I, without really paying attention to what I was doing (being more focused on asking the same questions over and over again and being surprised that answers weren't magically coming forth), slowly approached the wayward farm animal. And realized there was no way for me to know where this sheep belonged. It did look similar to one I'd found on Moonbreaker Mountain a few weeks ago, but I'd had MouseEye there to translate. Here and now, I had just me.

Half-jokingly, I asked Bess, "You don't happen to speak sheep, do you?"

She thought I was fully joking. "No, unfortunately. When I was choosing courses at the Bard Academy, I opted to lean Prehistory."

"There's a Bard Academy?"

"Proud graduate."

"And they teach Prehistory?"

"Um... no."

"Oh."

I began to wonder - could I get anywhere with sheep in the same way MouseEye could? And so I started to focus - on MouseEye and his ability to communicate, on the sheep and its language, on Bess and her ability to transcend language with song, and on the spirit house and its ability to harmonize with everything. I imagined being at the cottage with the sheep in front of me. I felt meaning and compassion rise up from deep inside me, the sounds coming up my throat and out my mouth, even to the point of feeling like I was a sheep. The sounds I made were, to my human ears, absolute nonsense, but when the sheep answered back, I knew where we had to go. "She belongs to the Bleaters."

"What's that? A traveling troupe of sheep?"

"No. It's a family that live on a farm near Moonbreaker Mountain."

"And we're... what? We're going to rescue this sheep? How? There's barely enough room to fit the two of us on the bristles."

And that was certainly true. How could a rescue be effected with Bess and me, a stranded sheep, and one broom? I needed help. So I called for Vapour Trail.

I held her, communed, explained, and... an idea came. A surprising idea. A brilliant idea. And by brilliant, I mean something brilliant. The Pop O'Lock that had enhanced the broom morphed, shifted, changed. A platform appeared along the shaft of the broom. One large enough to fit one lost sheep.

Bess just stood there, in shock and disbelief. "You know, often when I hear tales of wondrous things, I get the feeling that somewhere in the telling and retelling, things get added simply to make it more interesting. If I ever figure out how to tell my experiences up here, I'm going to have to dial it back, otherwise no one will believe me."

In the few minutes it took to get everything situated, Bess was repeating the events of the day. And then muttering about not believing things herself. And then back to recounting the day's events.

If only she'd known things were going to be even more unbelievable before our outing concluded!

Now... by "unbelievable", I don't mean Bess' reaction to my suggestion that, with the rescued sheep perched on the just-created perch on the broom, that we should sit/stand/be downwind of said sheep and any... how should I say this?... waste material that could fly at us. And for some reason, whether Bess would be in front of or behind me didn't really matter. Since I'd always flown Vapour Trail handle-end in front, it didn't dawn on me (until Bess' adamant refusal to fly that way) that we could fly bristle-end first. 

Which then got me thinking about everything we'd done so far with Pop making the needed modifications, which led to my taking a minute with the broom, having a bit of a chat about a thought or two, and...

"What the...? Where did...? What...?" That, probably needless to say, was Bess after she saw the... I suppose "edifice" is an adequate word for what now sat on the bristles. Made purely of light (but as solid as rock) was a tower. Of sorts. It wasn't big in terms of footprint, but was big enough to allow for small rooms stacked one on top of the other. Sleeping cubbies, sitting rooms, an observation deck on top... I think I forgot to mention that there need not be too many rooms or levels.

Bess approached it, seemingly having a difficult time processing it. "It's like something from an epic story The nemesis in the Ramayana was Ravana. And he'd managed to get his hands on a shape-shifting chariot called Pushpaka. With that he made something similar to this. Which just casually appeared after talking to your broom. I mean... who are you?!?"

I didn't know how to answer that, so I went with the familiar. "I'm Sweet. Just "Sweet". A witch. And someone who tends not to ask for help when she should because when I do, things like this are possible."

"Is there a bouncy castle in this thing?"

"What's a bouncy castle?"

She told me. Thinking she was serious, I asked Vapour Trail. A small adjustment later... "Yes. There is now."

"Of course there is." She started to enter the tower, then looked over her shoulder. "Bouncy castles are way more fun when bouncing in them is more than one." And then she smiled.

Tears started to flow. My heart exploded. My mind felt a tremendous pressure release of a sudden, leaving me a complete wreck on the inside. Happily miserable, that was me.

And again, felt more than anything, she slid in, held me, embraced me, hummed a lullaby, and just let me release my anxieties, my fears, my insecurities. I held on to her, my lifeline, my safety, my comfort. "Thank you for being my friend, for coming here with me, seeing the world as I experience it."

She kissed my cheek in acknowledgement, then said, "Do you know what will make this rescue even better? The bouncy castle!" She pulled out of the embrace, wiped the tears from my eyes, then grabbed my hand and led me to the tower. "I know you probably know where it is but don't tell me! Let's find it together!" Which is how we flew to the Bleaters' Farm - one sheep on a platform (which became more of a stall) and two silly women jumping and bouncing and laughing and exhausting themselves. And one broom on more-or-less autopilot (because, since I'd been to the farm once already, it could follow my mental map).

Later, two sweaty women were laying on the springy floor, all played out. "Sweet? Did I ever tell you about my fear of heights?"

"No. But I got the idea."

"I could get used to this, though! Imagine! Flying from place to place in a light palace. Would you ever consider...?"

"Consider what?"

Bess hesitated, then, "No. Nothing. Forget I said anything."

I shrugged. "Ok."

We sat quietly for a minute or two. I was on the verge of not forgetting about whatever Bess had been about to ask when we felt a slight weight press down on us, then release. The thought came to me that we might have landed. That was followed up by sheep bleating, children calling out, and farm smells seeping through the walls.

It took a minute to descend, which gave one of the Bleater's older children time to approach the broom. "Ah! Mistress Sweetwater! This is an impressive... vehicle. What brings you here?"

The baaaa of the sheet came before my answer. "I believe that sheep is yours?"

"I believe so. Find her on Moonbreaker Mountain?"

"No. The Cloud Isles."

That stopped him. "But... how?"

I admitted that I didn't know. And then I opened the light pen and allowed the sheep to exit. By that time Mrs. Bleater had made her way to us. "Mistress. You're getting to be quite the shepherd! Will you and your friend join us for dinner?" Bess and I quickly looked at each other, gave affirmative looks, then I said, "We'd be delighted."

"Wonderful! I'll let you freshen up."

Much like last time, there was a parade of children who led us to a room where there was a basin of water and some cloths. What was different this time was the presence of someone who could muster up martial music at the drop of a hat. We all trooped off into the house.

And much like my prior visit, the dinner served by the family was basic, and yet there was plenty and it was all tasty. After dinner and clean up, Bess was introduced to the song the Bleaters like to sing when hosting company (and was also a favourite of the old witch), She'll Be Comin' Round the Mountain. While I contributed a couple of verses, like "She'll Be Flying Vapour Trail When She Comes", Bess put together a few gems, and even included one that got the children excited, "She'll Be Bringin' Sweets and Chocolates When She Comes" (until they realized Bess' pockets were empty). Another verse she used made fun of our failed reagent hunt. "She'll Have Failed to Find Some Whale Poop When She Comes".

See - and I forgot to mention it earlier - we'd spotted Star Shards right away and so I thought we could also find ambergris. Technically, ambergris is a whale excretion. So it could be whale sweat. Or whale eye mucous. Or... it's whale poop. And despite looking high and low for it (and we found plenty of things that looked like ambergris but weren't), we didn't find any. Bess, oddly, seemed relieved every time we didn't find some. Weird.

Anyway, the Bleaters very politely offered to have us to stay the night. Bess and I declined at the same time. Which really was a bit weird. I mean, I know with Vapour Trail I can get home from anywhere and do so safely (and, by special request, do so in a bouncy castle). Bess, though - she seemed unusually anxious to not spend the night here. I had told her, on our way during the sheep rescue, about the group bed and how it had been a bit cramped but otherwise very comfortable. However, in the end, we both were in agreement about not staying. A couple of the younger daughters begged us to stay, with another one saying she was glad I wouldn't be snoring in her ear!

We bid farewell, climbed into the much less elaborate broom, and headed off. (We sat in a small enclosed space on the bristles. It allowed us to feel like we were flying through the dark of night but without the cold wind cutting through us).

It'd been a long day. We were both worn out. Vapour Trail was taking us towards High Rannoc as smoothly as can be imagined. And then... I saw the sky move. It was like the field of stars in the sky were jewels sewn onto a blanket and that it had just been smoothed out. I was suddenly awake. And heading up to take a look.

Bess was reclined into a cozy corner of our space. She looked up at me. "What's up, Buttercup?"

I told her I'd spotted something odd and that I wanted to check it out before we got back home. It was probably nothing, but I thought it important to make sure.

"Thank you, by the way, for not putting the bouncy castle in again. I'm exhausted! But it's a shame the kids didn't have a chance to play in it."

While most of me was watching the sky for more unusual movement, a part of me heard and wondered. That was an excellent point - something children could enjoy. I could set it up for the Festival. Aside from entertaining the kids, it might help my reputation with the parents. I'd definitely need to consider it.

As we approached the summit of the mountain, I spotted the lighthouse that had emitted the aura I'd seen previously. Tonight, however, it was dark. But the sky did move again. Something was going on.

I landed Vapour Trail on the peak, then stepped onto the hard rock. Aside from the stars above us, it was all dark. Dark below, dark around, dark most everywhere. Stars above. And as I watched, a grouping of stars started to move, undulate, twist, and start to form a shape. "Bess? You seeing this?"

She stepped next to me, grabbed my hand, pointed with her other hand and asked, "That swirling bit of stars that's impossibly huge?"

"Yeah. That."

"What is it?"

"Aside from a swirling bit of stars that's impossibly huge? I don't know."

As we were speaking, the stars began to coalesce. And from the general area of the stars taking shape, a voice emerged. "Would you care to be enlightened?"

Gulping a little, I addressed the starlight. "Yes, please."

A shape began to form. Large, serpentine, winged. A dragon! Bess released my hand and performed a deep curtsey. "How may we address you, oh grand one?"

The laughter that shot forth was intense, but not aggressive, and changed as the star shape changed, from dragon to human female. "Of course a bard would know the lore about dragons and massive egos", she said. The voice was now rich, sultry - one that any orator would envy. "And a witch will wish to know what parts of me could be used to treat human afflictions. The answer to that is - none. Or perhaps that's not entirely true - I see you've picked up a piece of my shedding."

It took me a second to realize what was being referred to. "Do you mean the Star Shard?"

"I do indeed.

"As to what you may call me, I've been given a multitude of names by any number of peoples all over the earth. I choose to have you use 'Nut'".

Nut? That sounded pretty... ordinary. You'd think a grand creature like a dragon would have a more grand name. As I thought that, I lapsed silent. Bess, however, was in her element.

"What peoples use that name for you?"

"People who live many thousands of kilometres away, in a desert, who cluster around a life-giving river. They call themselves 'Egyptians'." Then she changed topics. "To what do I owe the honour of this visit?"

I spoke up. "I saw the sky... ummm... wrinkle. I wasn't sure why, so I decided to take a look."

Starry eyebrows raised. "Indeed? Without knowing what could possibly cause it and certainly without any ability to fix the sky, you came up here anyway?"

"Ah... yes. Nut."

The entire universe reverberated with her laughter. "You are as audacious in person as what I've observed from up high."

I wasn't sure if that had been a good laugh or a bad one. "My deepest apologies if our coming here disturbed you in any way."

She looked at us. "I watch the comings and goings of all things from up here. The Egyptians revere me as a god, to the point of believing I swallow the sun at dusk and give birth to it at dawn. I've watched mountains rise and fall, rivers etch the landscape, forests grow and die off. But what I don't ever experience", and here she paused, "is conversation. I see but am too far away to hear. I observe but can only guess the meanings behind actions. You are a welcome distraction."

Which is how Nut, Bess, and I conversed for most of the night. And by converse, I mean that Nut was full of questions about the whys and wherefores of life in and around High Rannoc. What was a little strange was the lack of questions about Bess and I individually, as if she knew that some questions she might ask cold breach our respective privacy. So I guess, while odd, once I realized what she was doing, I was grateful. 

Which... as I'm writing this now, I'm not entirely sure why I would be grateful since I don't have any secrets (that I'm aware of), but maybe Bess did. Does. Whatever.

Anyway, we talked for what seemed like forever. But, as the light of dawn began to glow in the East, Nut said, "It appears I'm getting ready to give birth to the sun. Before it rises into the sky and obscures everything, let me bestow gifts."

Nut reached out and brought into view... something. It had a body, and strings, and... other things... all made of individual points of light. "Play it only in darkness, but however you wish."

"Thank you. May I try it?"

Nut nodded. And Bess... I don't know what exactly it was that she played, but it sounded like something only royalty, and not human royalty, would ever hear. Glistening stars fell from twinkling eyes. "That was magnificent. Thank you, Bess."

To me, Nut gave a crystal. "This is called a Moonstone, harvested from the Moon. It will purify potions. After a few uses, it must itself be purified. You must discover the purification process for yourself - like the moon, Moonstone can be fickle, changeable, and cloak things in layers of shadow."

I curtsied, not as elegantly or smoothly as Bess, but with genuine emotion and gratitude. "My apologies, Nut, but I have nothing to give to you."

"Your curiosity has already given me a gift. Besides, who knows when the needs of a dragon, even a star dragon, might require a skilled witch."

We bowed and bobbed and with all the social niceties observed (I followed Bess for pretty much all of it), we got onto/into Vapour Trail. She lifted off and I pointed her home.

"Sweet? You said, and it feels like ages ago, that my wish is your command. Is that still true?"

"Absolutely."

"Then my wish is that I pass out here and now and not go through all the trouble of going to my wagon tonight. Is that ok?"

"It's your wish, my Lady, so therefore my command."

I felt a change in Vapour Trail - the floor became softer, like a down-filled mattress, and layers of warm blankets materialized. A pillow sprang up from under her head.

"And... join me?"

I looked at her. She'd been through a lot today, said her eyes, and a sleeping companion would be a welcome way to bring a bit of normalcy back to her life. A second pillow emerged, next to Bess'. And I slid under the covers next to her. She threw an arm over me, whispered a thanks into my ear, and quickly gave herself up to a much needed sleep.

Before I dozed off, I instructed Vapour Trail to land on the cottage grounds and to let us sleep uninterrupted until we were ready to wake up.

I just wish Vapour Trail wasn't so easily convinced to allow a nosey mouse and a grumpy donkey to disturb us. 

Spring, Week 10 - The Traveling Troubadour

To hear the narration and to learn how I put this episode together, check out this video:

*****

 It's been a tough few weeks. The whole mess with the mayor... it's been stressful. And I've been avoiding people, companionship, even friendships. I know there are people in High Rannoc who support me. I'm feeling lonely, despite having penpals in the Here Yet Not Here and the friendly faces of everyone and everything living on the grounds. I think I'm ready to face down the rumour mongers and spend a bit of time amongst friends. Or, at the very least, be in town and show everyone that I'm not ashamed to show my face. I'll ride into town on Vapour Trail, all lit up and beautiful, and... and there is no 'and'. I'll just go and be brave and face whatever needs facing.

Despite coming to a decision about what I'm going to do, I've found myself doing little things here and there which, were anyone to judge my actions, could view them as avoidance. Not that I'd agree with that conclusion! It's just that, when faced with something that could go badly, and quickly, socially, I find that there are things that I see that need doing before taking on anything new. Like the cauldron needing a good scrubbing. The hearth needs a good sweep. The chimney should get a good scrubbing to keep the creosote under control. The...

"Hello, hello! To the faire I go!

I know the way, just steps away

and maybe it won't start today

but I'll keep singing anyway!"

So... I'm covered, head to toe, in black ash and grime and there's someone approaching the cottage singing exuberantly. I hope it's not someone suffering from a singing sickness needing immediate treatment! It'll take days just to get to a semblance of clean! And still the singing got closer.

"Hello, hello! Is anybody home?

I'm free to roam, with no fixed home

Is anybody home?"

And then a knock.

Now, as to how this bard didn't see me on the roof as I finished up the chimney... I was hiding. Yes - I, Mistress Sweetwater, witch of High Rannoc and environs, was lying down on the roof trying hard to not be noticed. The lonely witch, absolutely covered in soot, avoiding a knock at the door, and I...

"There's a bard knocking at the door." I realized, with MouseEye's voice coming from in front of me, that I'd closed my eyes. Because apparently that helped me hide better! So I opened them and, sure enough, MouseEye was up on the roof with me, crouching down, hiding, too.

"I know!", I hissed.

"Are you going to answer it?" MouseEye's eyes glittered with mischief. 

"No!"

"Ok. I will." And before I could stop him, he ran, sprang, and disappeared. I groaned inwardly. And then I heard, "Just one moment please! Mistress Sweetwater is indisposed. Please come in and make yourself comfortable."

There was no helping it. Now I had to come down and deal with... someone. Great.

"She's making herself at home. You're welcome." MouseEye was lying down next to me again, grinning. I swear, MouseEye should be happy I can't literally shoot daggers out of my eyes because at this moment I was trying really hard to make them shoot something. Given his impudent grin, I was indeed shooting something, but something less deadly and more ticklish. 

Fine. Fine! I'm going to handle this the best way I can. I stood up, called for Vapour Trail, and waited for a second.

Ok - it was a little longer than a second. It was exactly long enough for the visitor to stride out from the cottage and watch as I caught my broom, jump off the roof, and settle onto the ground. I think I felt a small cloud of ash rise up with my landing.

We both started talking at the same time, then quickly stopped. Then the bard made a grand gesture and said, "Pleased to meet you, Mistress Sweetwater. I'm the Traveling Troubadour, Bess by name, bard by trade, minstrel to all far and wide."

I smiled. I couldn't help myself. There was something just so... familiar. Easy. Fun. And it was infectious. I'd certainly caught something that turned my mood 180 degrees. "I'm afraid Mistress Sweetwater isn't here just yet. But I dare say that in an hour, and after a really good wash, she'll be here. For right now, just call me Ash. Ly. Ashly. 

Her eyes glittered back. "Ashly, can I get your Mistress' fire going while you wash up?"

"That would be delightful. Thank you."

And that was that. I took a towel and a lot of soap with me to the stream and Bess got the fire going.

It felt like forever to get all the grime off and feel clean. By which I mean almost all the grime because it just wouldn't all wash off!

Note to self - self-sufficiency is nice, but I bet I could hire help and not feel like I'm a walking ash pit. Even the few coughs I've had are a smokey grey! But I finally got to where I didn't feel filthy anymore, then headed back to the cottage. 

I hadn't forgotten that I had a visitor but I did sort of lose track of it because I couldn't help but be a little surprised when I walked into the cottage and Bess was there in front of the fire, looking at the spirit house. 

"You look cleaner. And a lot happier for it."

"Would you mind if...?" and I gestured to the door. 

She nodded in acknowledgement, then closed the door behind her. I took a minute to get dried off and dressed, and then opened the door. I didn't see her right away, but coming from a short way off was quiet singing. I followed the sound and found Bess sitting under a tree.

 "Either that was a very quick hour that passed or you are a much cleaner Ashly."

"No. It's Mistress Sweetwater now. Or just Sweet. It felt like it'd take an hour just to start to feel clean! Would you like some tea?"

"I'd love some!"

We chatted all the way back to the cottage. Which, to be honest, was very unusual for me. When people come to the cottage, they come with a purpose, i.e. to be cured of some affliction. And then they leave. And I like it like that. And so, to be happy and chatty with anyone is really unusual. 

"It's a hazard of the profession", she said when I mentioned it to her. "When you travel around, meeting people, hearing news, learning stories, you have to be approachable, charismatic even. So don't worry - you aren't the first person to feel like you're in danger of talking my ear off!" She laughed as she told me.

We'd settled into the cottage, drinking tea, trading stories. She told me about some places she'd visited, "... but I haven't been to the Imperial City. Yet. One day." And some of her adventures. "But enough about me! How'd you get me talking so much?"

I told her about being a witch, of some of my cures, places I'd been, and some of my adventures. By the time we'd traded stories, the day was well along. I'd been talking so much I didn't notice until the slanting sun shone through a window. "Oh my goodness! I just realized I'm famished. You must be too. Can I invite you to stay for dinner? It's not much but it is tasty." She gratefully accepted.

As I cooked, she sang and told stories. Most of the time it was in Commonspeak but here and there were different languages - some sound vaguely familiar while others were just plain strange.

After eating and cleaning up, I asked if she needed a place to sleep. "It's awfully generous but I've got a wagon and donkey parked by the entryway to your footpath here. Marvin, that's my donkey, will be fine - he's got plenty to eat. And my wagon's got a bed in it. That's one thing I got early on in my travels! It may sound romantic to sleep under the stars or even under a tent, but a real bed is priceless. So I'm all set for tonight.

"But I do want to thank you for your hospitality today. Would it be ok if I made us some breakfast tomorrow before I head into the town?"

"Thank you! Sounds lovely. Oh - are you here for the Spring Festival? It's not for three weeks yet, but I believe it's quite the thing."

"Three weeks early? I... I guess I lost track of the days! It's longer than I usually stay in any one place, but let's see how things go and if it makes sense, I'll stay for it."

The sun was on the verge of dipping below the horizon when Bess, whistling, made her way towards her wagon.

And as I went to bed, I felt... it was like a warm spot in my soul. I have penpals (and a Best Bestie!) but this, this instantaneous friendship, is wonderful!

I woke up the next morning in a fantastic mood. And yes, it was before the sun rose! I wanted the day to start and to be long and wonderful.

Before it gets asked - yes, I had the fire up and ready to go. What I had for plates and cutlery were polished. Multiple times. It kept me from pacing in the cottage. Staying in the cottage kept me from knocking on a certain someone's wagon door!

"Nervous much?", said a bleary-eyed mouse.

"No! Why would I be?"

"No reason. Silly of me to ask."

It was a good question. Why was I so... not nervous, exactly, but... ummm... nervous. I guess. But not a bad nervous! A good nervous. A...

"Knock knock!", said the very welcome figure who stepped in.

"Hi!", I chirped. 

She laughed throatily. "You're quite awake. Sleep ok?"

"I did! And you?"

"So good. Ready for breakfast a la Bess?"

"Ravenous."

"Good! Then let's get cooking!"

Bess surveyed what I had, then grabbed a few ingredients and started cooking. It smelled... ummm... how to put it?... alarmingly bad. 

"Can I help?", I asked as I peered over her shoulder. 

There was this look on her face, a comical mix of apology, embarrassment, and overwhelm. "I really wanted to surprise you with a good breakfast. And I think I really wanted to surprise myself with the ability to make one! But... ah... it's not to be this morning. I'm sorry I've wasted the food."

"No worries! How about this - you tell a tale or two and I'll whip up a couple of omelettes tout de suite." 

I tossed her cooking atrocity out and quickly replaced it with my plain Jane (but filling and tasty) fair. Meanwhile, she told a story about the love of a fisherman, who lived along a river, for a river nymph and the child that was born from that relationship. His name was Bank and he lived a remarkable life. It was as if the spirit of humanity and the river water combined to form someone who could go with the flow when needed but could also blast through and around any and all obstacles in his way. He became a wise mayor, a beneficent provider, and a fierce protector. When he died at the ripe old age of 352 years, his body was placed in the river, where it literally dissolved and washed away. 

I had to force myself to not pay all my attention to her telling - I didn't want to scrap yet another breakfast attempt!

As we ate, I decided to tease Bess a little. "Where did you learn your cookery skills?" I grinned as I asked.

She took a minute to chew a few extra, and perhaps not absolutely necessary, times. "I... ah... didn't spend much time in kitchens, growing up. I was... ah... doing other things. Other chores. You know?"

I had to ask. "So... what were you trying to put together this morning?"

She gave me a weak smile. "Tavern keepers make it look so easy - just throw things together and have it be delicious. So I figured, how hard can it be? Now I know! I should've stuck with roasting miscellaneous rodent and/or birds on a spit over an open fire."

"Open fire - check. But I'm a bit short on rodent."

We both laughed and finished eating. We both started to say, "Shall we...?", then stopped.

I looked at her, crossed my arms, then said, "Well? Shall we?" And she did the same back. "Well? Shall we?" And laughing, we both said "yes" at the same time. And then we both just stood there. Which was funny on its own. 

"What did we just say we should do?", I asked.

"I thought it was some combination of cleaning up, then heading into High Rannoc. I need to ingratiate myself at a local tavern..."

"The. There's only one. The Copper Fox."

"... right. Right! The tavern. And start playing sets. That brings in customers which then brings me silver, and the occasional free drink, and everyone is happy."

"Ok. Good! And I'll.. I guess..."

"Why, you shall provide cures as needed, listen enraptured to me, and overall have a good time. What say you?"

It sounded good. Great even. It'd be nice to have a reason to stay in town for a while, socialize a bit (and hopefully that silly mayor business had, or would, blow over), and just relax. It'd be a rare treat. We cleaned up, then headed to her wagon.

To say it's a modest wagon is, well... accurate. It's quite small and, in essence, a tiny cabin on wheels. Painted on each side of the cabin walls are painted pictures of Bess and a mandolin. Words certainly weren't needed - the pictures got the idea across. And besides, I don't think a lot of people know how to read.

As we approached, her donkey looked up from grazing. Now - I might've been seeing things, but I swear the donkey gave Bess a quick questioning look and she just as quickly shook her head ever-so-slightly no. I would've disregarded it completely if not for the flash of resigned annoyance on the donkey's face and the accompanying snort. Bess looked at me and saw incomprehension. "Oh, don't mind Marvin. You know how donkeys are."

Right. It seems my adage about things not being as they seem has now been extended to encompass Bess and Marvin. So long as it's not harmful to me, we're all good!

She got Marvin harnessed in and we rode on the wagon together for the few minutes it took to arrive outside the Copper Fox Tavern. And not much after that, I'd introduced Fussy and Bess, her wagon was positioned to showcase a bard was now in town, and she was already playing for the couple of patrons eating their meals.

I felt bad that so few people were here to listen, but both Fussy and Bess assured me everything was just fine. Give it time, they said. Advertising comes in many forms, they said. It'd be the crowd tonight that would dictate just how successful (or not) Bess had been at drawing and keeping a crowd.

And they were so right. The afterwork and dinner crowd was bigger than usual (so said Fussy), but it was the rowdy evening crowd that Bess really played to. The songs were boisterous, bawdy, bodacious even. And a major hit. People sang, danced, swayed (mostly from the enormous amounts of beer and spirits being consumed), and overall had a fantastic time. Fussy was run off his feet keeping up with orders, Robert Robertson was doing his best to help, and even I got enlisted. The roar of the room was enough to bury whatever mean and/or rude comments were directed towards me.

As the nighttime entertainment continued, the mayor and his wife came in and sat down. Things got a bit tense at first, almost as if the people in the room were embarrassed to be having a good time, but the mayor quickly began singing along with the songs and the room exhaled. His wife, a severe-looking woman, sat watching the proceedings, not participating much at all. Maybe it was because she was under the weather - her nose looked red and she was constantly dabbing at it with a handkerchief. And not much after coming in, she left, leaving her husband to get more and more drunk.

They didn't pay attention to me at all. Thank all the gods for that!

At some point, Bess called it a night, the crowd dispersed, Fussy started cleaning the tavern before counting the take, and Robert and I did our best to help clean up. By the time we were all done, it was super late, I was exhausted, and we all started to head to our collective beds.

I'd figured Bess had gone to her wagon to sleep since I didn't see her outside. So I started heading home. Which is when MouseEye popped onto my shoulder. "Something's wrong. Go check on Bess."

That woke me up. Alarm bells, accompanied with flashes of red-hot fire, flashed through my mind's eye. "Where is she?"

"Down near the Lunar Tower."

As I began to run, I asked, "Is anyone with her? Is she ok?"

"No. And no."

Minutes later, and following the sound of coughing, I found her sitting with her back to the solid rock of the Ritual Stone. The little labyrinth that led to the centre was still filled with debris but she'd somehow made her way through. 

"Bess?", I called.

"What's happening to me?", she cried.

At first I thought she was referring to her coughing. And then, after a minute, I realized she was definitely referring to her coughing. 

"I was feeling fine! But I needed a bit of air so I walked down here. And then I started hacking away! But I still feel fine! *cough cough*

Her voice is mellow, melodious, rich. The cough was rough, severe, and an octave or two higher than it should've been. She was coughing someone else's cough.

I asked if she wanted company going back to the wagon. 

"I can't go back into town! If people suspect I'm unwell, they'll at best assume I won't be performing for a few days. At worst they'll blame me for all the pounding headaches and body aches they're going to feel from being hungover. No - I'll stay here. But... can you help me?"

Mentally, I scanned the old witch's book and found a diagnosis: Ventriloquist Cough. I needed to act fast, if for no other reason that Bess' voice could be affected for days, and also because the silly goose insisted on staying out here. Even when I offered her to stay at my cottage, she declined.

Ok then. Time for this witch to do her thing.

I raced home and scanned the book for the cure details. Ghost Goo, already in the cupboard, would take care of half the problem. For the other, I needed to go to... the Hollow.

I stifled my automatic complaining about the place and instead grabbed my things and headed off with MouseEye on my shoulder.

"You don't suppose...", I started to say as I made my way towards the dungeon.

"Suppose what?"

It felt like I knew what was going on, on one level at least, but the dots just weren't connecting in the 'racing-to-the-area-I-hate-after-spending-the-day-being-around-more-people-than-I've-ever-been-around-in-my-life-and-exhausted-from-a-half-dozen-different-causes-not-least-of-all-was-a-magical-malady-that-had-struck-my-new-friend' level.

But luck was with me. In a couple of ways, in fact. One was that I didn't trip and kill myself. And the other was that I found a map at the Hollow's entrance. Which is to say that MouseEye spotted it and called my attention to it.

As maps go, it was pretty terrible. I knew enough about the Hollow to spot several errors and omissions. But what it did show was the location of Darkwater. It was something I'd never used before and was located in a part of the dungeon I hadn't explored yet. But! - and this was a big but - it was exactly what I needed.

In my mind, back at the level that was busy connecting dots, more and different dots were being drawn into the big picture (or pictures, I had no clue), which I was still not grasping at my current level (which pretty much consisted of stumbling forward towards the next needed step to make a potion).

I hoped the Mimic, as Igor calls it, would show up and guide me. Nope. I hoped MouseEye would talk to me to help distract me from my exhaustion. Didn't happen. And, frankly, I was too tired to ask. But the map was accurate enough and by following it, I reached a... it's not something you can call a well or spring. It was kind of like a pool full of a heavy, very sweet, very dark, syrup. I'd hesitate to add hot water and turn it into a tea; it was just that sweet!

A little while later, I was back home prepping the potion. Ghost Goo boiled and to it I added the raw Darkwater (and since Darkwater induces a medical sleeping condition, I added some Wigfish to counteract it). With it all prepped, I made my way back to Bess.

True to her word, she'd stayed at the Ritual Stone, still coughing that awful hack. I navigated the brambles so I could hand her the potion. A few gulps of potion later, and gagging from the clinging and cloying sweet, she stopped coughing. We both waited to see if the dreaded cough would come back. It didn't, leaving both of us relieved.

We were now, both of us, leaning against the cool, heavy stone, enjoying the coughless quiet and (for me, anyway), the lack of creepy dungeon darkness. The night here was refreshing - dark but delightful. 

"Thank you. I don't know what I would've done if you hadn't cured me." She leaned over and laid her head on my shoulder. It felt... comfortable.

"I think it would've gone away on its own. Someone cursed you. Someone with a cough, I should say, cursed you to cough for them. So after they would've stopped coughing, you'd've stopped too. But it's good we got it stopped before your singing voice was affected."

The quiet settled on us again. Until...

"Sweet? Did that potion have to be so... sweet?"

"Well... of course!", I replied in mock outrage. We both got a chuckle from that.

"Shall we head to bed? It's really starting to get chilly." I think I said that. Maybe she did. I was so tired I think we both ended up napping where we were sitting. By mutual agreement, we headed back. I had to walk through town to exit through the correct gate, so I walked her to her wagon.

"Thank you again. I mean it. Thank you." She gave me a quick hug and a peck on the cheek before dashing inside her wagon. And I... I walked home. Both happy that I'd cured her and miserable that the night had come to an end.

Numb, I trudged home, undressed (more out of habit than anything else), and collapsed into bed.

Ordinarily, that would be that. I'd effected a cure, they'd left, and I was left alone to my own devices. Ordinarily, that was the order of things, the normal course of affairs, my preferred existence. But... today?... tomorrow?... yesterday?... what time is it? What day is it? *sigh* What use is it asking these tough questions when the blankets are very securely over my head, blocking out whatever is going on out there? I'm good right here, lying still, hearing the birds chirp. So... morning? I guess? Morning's for the birds. Let them enjoy it. I'll just lie here until... the cows come home. And that's a safe saying, given my absolute lack of anything resembling a bovine. Now that that's settled, I'll just lie here until... there's a whistling on the wind. A non-bird, and very non-bovine, whistling. A...

"Knock knock, anybody home?"

I heard her open the door and walk in. I heard her walk over to the edge of the bed. I felt her sit on the edge. And I felt her gently tap my head through the blankets, and laugh. "That was quite the night. I'm glad you've slept in. So, how about this - you make breakfast, I'll serenade you while you do, and then you can take me somewhere that's beautiful, peaceful, and above all free of people insisting that I carry the burden of their coughing."

There was warmth in her voice. Caring. Concern. Compassion. But I just... I just lay there.

"Or I could cook up something extra special for us and..."

The way to a man's heart may be through his stomach, but the way to a woman's brain is through threatening to make a horrid mess of her kitchen.

I popped my head out from under the blankets. And immediately regretted it - it was so bright!

"Ok, maybe more like lunch. I'm not picky."

I looked around as if seeing everything for the first time. Then looked up into Bess' face. Her smiling face.

"Oh yeah. I told Fussy I'd take today off but that I'll play in or around the tavern until the festival."

I became aware that: 1. I couldn't get out of bed because she was sitting on the blankets and, 2. If I did get out of bed, I'd be quite... exposed. "Wanna give me a few minutes?"

"Sure thing."

In a repeat of yesterday (was it really only yesterday?), she settled on a seat near the cottage, humming and singing, while I quickly got around and then let her know I was dressed.

I cooked, she sang, we both ate. Lovely.

As we cleaned up, she asked where I was taking us. It seemed like an opportune time to check to see if Lady Copeland had written back, and of course the beach and Loch are gorgeous, so I suggested we go there.

As to how... I'd never tried two people on my broom but thought it'd be fun to try. So we stepped outside, I held up my hand, and Vapour Trail came as called.

"That is so cool that you can do that! And I still can't believe you own a real-live flying broom!"

It took a few minutes to figure out what seating configuration was best, but finally with me in front and Bess behind me, arms around my waist, off we went. My head still wasn't fully there, so I kept the showboating to a minimum. But, of course, I had to do a little! I felt Bess' uncertainty in the movement of Vapour Trail and so kept the ride fluid and loose. There was no sense in doing something risky and crashing into a tree.

The Loch's waters gently lapped the shore, a breeze kept the leaves moving to and fro, and the sand was warm. A perfect day at the beach!

I told her about the message in a bottle I'd gotten from my newest penpal. I then recited the poem she'd written. Bess' eyes went wide as the words rolled off my lips.

"Wow. Um... hmmm...", was all Bess said.

We stayed all day. We swam, sun-bathed, talked, joked, traded stories. I think she began composing one to start memorializing her trip to High Rannoc. It was lovely.

The sun began to set. Shadows lengthened, the breeze off the water picked up, even the temperature began to drop.

Two more things happened. The first wasn't so much something that happened but more what was noticed. Vapour Trail, which has a perpetual glow (thanks to the Pop O' Lock that merged with her), became more and more bright (comparatively) and brilliant. It took my breath away. For Bess - she was left nearly speechless. "I wondered if your broom glowed but I chalked it up to tricks of the light. But, wow, was I ever wrong! How...?"

It was as she was trying to put her feelings into words that the second thing happened: from a mist that began to rise from the Loch's waters, a ship emerged. A misty, ghostly, ethereal, three-masted ship. And on the deck of the ship were crew members. Looking at us. While we looked at them. And then Bess and I looked at each other. 

"Are you doing that?" Which makes sense for her to ask because I was wondering if somehow she was!

"No. And I take it you aren't."

"Not I, said the cat."

That stopped me - which is funny because her response caught my attention more, in that moment, than the ship and crew that had just materialized. "What's that about a cat?"

"Little Red Hen. An old tale. I'll tell it to you sometime."

Ah. As I digested that, the ship's captain came to the rail. "Ahoy! What might these waters be called?"

"Meltwater Loch!", I yelled back.

A pause, then, "Might you know the way to the township known as 'Racine'? It's famous for its moss piglet exhibition."

Bess and I looked at each other and shared shrugs. "Sorry, haven't heard of it, let alone know how to get there."

Another pause. "Well, apparently neither does my Navigator! No matter! We're here and anchored. I'd be honoured if you'd grace us with your presence onboard!"

Another shared shrug. "Sure!"

"Wonderful! Wait there and I'll have a boat launched to bring you over."

I raised my hand and Vapour Trail, in all her lighted glory, shot into my hand.

"Or you can make your own way here!"

A minute later, Bess and I were on deck. And minutes after that, there were songs, dancing, and drinking all over the ship. Bess reached for an accordion and played songs. As crew members sang their songs and told their tales, she was actively listening, learning, absorbing. She collected songs and tales the way I collect reagents - every chance we get!

I did hear someone say something like "Well shiver me timbres! Listen to that voice." before an older crew member slapped him across the chest. "Mind yourself or go below." And then the first one said something like, "Well, Quartermaster, I hear you, but there's a... a mast belowdecks and..." followed by another slap. "These ladies are the Captain's guests. Would you insult the Captain and his guests, and sully his hospitality?" There was a far more meek "No, sir." and then the Quartermaster ended with "Then not another word on the matter." It all struck me as odd, but then again, so much of what tends to happen to and around me is odd, I didn't give it another thought. Instead, I danced. It was fun and joyous. And thankfully didn't require much skill; enthusiasm was all.

While I could close this out with the nuts and bolts of the remainder of the night until finally we found ourselves to our respective beds, instead I'll leave it full of sea shanties, jigs, and the pure expressions of being alive.

That, and the repeated insistence of the Navigator that it hadn't been a mistake to not make a course correction to port off the coast of Albuquerque.