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.
