Spring, Week 6 - She'll Be Comin' Round the Mountain

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

*****

 "Sorry. What? How about this - sit down, take a nice deep breath, then when you're ready, take it from the top."

As Roger began to work through this calming exercise, I was able to take a minute to reflect on what had been, until his arrival, a lovely morning. 

I'd spent it quietly, starting with my now usual practice of sitting and breathing in front of the spirit house. Afterwards, I spent some time with the bees. They'd flown around me, landed on me, and gently swarmed me. Far from creepy, it was comforting. Although their little gripper feet can be a bit much on bare skin!

I was within that communion of companionship when this loud lout had burst upon the grounds. Thankfully he was consistently loud so I wasn't hurt by startled bees.

At first I'd tried to ask Roger about why he was here, but all he'd been doing is talking, and acting out something that had happened somewhere. I was hoping he'd make more sense after taking a minute to settle. But in watching him try to sit quietly, it was clear there was something going on bodily - he just couldn't sit still. And what's more, odd movements kept happening. It was like watching something in a bag trying to get out.

Despite that, he did quiet down. And told me his story.

"You remember that I'm an adventurer, right? I approached you in the Copper Fox a few weeks ago and offered to guard you on your foraging journeys. Say! Why haven't you ever hired me? I'm really good at guarding and guiding. I mean, ok, yes, my armour is bits of what I can find to cover my important bits but I'm saving up for a quality piece of leather. It's going to be awesome! There're these trim pieces, red, you know, that'll set it off and..."

I help up my hand, hoping he'd stop talking. Again. "Yes, Roger, I remember you. I've been managing reagent gathering just fine. But I haven't forgotten your kind offer."

"And affordable!"

"Yes, very affordable. But not needed by me to date. So why don't you tell me what brings you here."

"Right! Yes! Well, I was hired to take my customer... sorry - my client - to Hero's Hollow."

"Ok. Who was your client?"

"Oh! Sorry - I have a strict policy of not revealing my clients' identities. Anyway, apparently there's a necromancer living in the dungeon. So we went in search of a reanimated skeleton. We had money to pay!"

*Sigh* So the doctor was still in search of a living skeleton. "So what happened?"

"We made our way to where my client knew the necromancer lives. And we met this... I guess... person? Anyway, we got there. This... person... directed me to a room while the necromancer and my client conducted their business.

"There was so much cool stuff in the room! I swear I didn't hear anyone say anything about not stepping into the chalked star-shape on the floor. But let me tell you, I heard about it right after I did it. The necromancer threw us out! My client was so angry. Anyway, there was some other stuff yelled back and forth but I couldn't focus on it. Not that any of that stuff would have made sense to me even if I'd been paying attention. Instead, I started feeling really weird. Like I wanted my body to do one thing but things kept trying to move in weird ways. I mean, I'm a highly trained warrior! Reflexes that just... Snap!... like a trap. Here - watch!"

I stood there, politely, watching. I didn't care about his... air sword attacks and air shield blocks, I guess you could call it. I watched as bones continued to move about in decidedly odd ways. It was if his skeleton had become reanimated inside his body. Restless Bones, the witch's book calls it. It's annoying to have but doesn't progress beyond the bones trying to move independently. The muscles help to keep everything in check. 

Roger had just finished reenacting some sort of mythic battle where he was the sole survivor. I interrupted his victory speech. "Roger, why didn't the doctor treat you?"

"Umm... well..."

 I just raised my eyebrows, waiting for what was going to be a ridiculous answer. 

"He said I have PNSD. Post Necromancer Stress Disorder. He said I'll be fine in a few weeks. And he wanted to give me some pill or other for stress. But I told him that my body is a temple and that I can't pollute it with something that'll make me sluggish. Here - watch!"

I managed to get his attention before he began slaying vast numbers of dread enemies. "I can make a potion. It'll take a bit, but I can do it. And it won't make you drowsy. Is that ok?"

"That sounds great! Here - watch as I show you how I defeated the Moose-headed Minotaur!"

"That's great. Yeah. Just great. Say! How about I direct you to these trees over here. Yes, these trees. The trees that are a good ways away from the cottage and my bee hive. Ok? I'm going to gather some things and head out. You can stay here until I'm back."

*****

"It's nice being out here. The peace. The quiet. No trying to chop down a tree using a twig." MouseEye perched on my shoulder, echoed what I'd been thinking. He continued. "Although it does seem a bit cruel to whack a living tree repeatedly with a piece of dead tree. I mean... trees have feelings too."

I said, "I do hope they have a good sense of humour."

MouseEye shrugged. "I'd think they're rather uptight. How else can you grow so tall?"

We both had a good laugh.

It felt good to be out, walking, enjoying the sun, the breeze, and the gentle odours that floated on it. Not to mention the mountain looming ahead of us. Somewhere up there was Glittersnow - the product of snow absorbing the power within ley lines. Combined with a bit of Wild Rose, that lovely flower growing in my plant bed, Roger and his amazing reactions/warrior instincts/pure physicality would be restored. Which, I'm sure to the relief of the trees, would result in relief in not having him whack them over and over as he tried out various battle cries.

I thought about the best way to locate the Glittersnow and it occurred to me that rather than find snow and hope it was on a ley line, that instead I should look for a ley line and follow it up the mountain until I hit snow. Rather brilliant of me, I wasn't ashamed to admit!

The trick, then, was to find a ley line. And for that, I didn't need my eyes. (In fact, they'd get in the way). Instead, I focused internally, paying attention to my intuition. (While there are other methods of finding ley lines, like pendulums and divining rods, they're just methods of focusing intuition). It did take a while of navigating the hills and terrain of the Mountain while staying focused on the ley line (and in there as well was MouseEye, who began telling jokes. It would've made things more difficult if I'd been laughing, but his jokes were so bad I only groaned.)

After finding a ley line, I then began following it. Unfortunately, they don't adjust course to help searchers navigate around sheer rock walls or through thick berry brambles. It took a while to finally reconnect to the ley line in a space with snow. But I found it, celebrated, and collected some (and celebrated again because who couldn't use a bit of victory dance in their life? However, victory speeches to phantom crowds of grateful townspeople saved from marauding hordes don't count!)

With the absolutely necessary reagent collected, I decided to look around and see if more potion ingredients were close by. Which is how I noticed a cave. It was very nondescript on the face of it. But quite comfortable and cozy inside with mosses growing at the cave mouth and on the floor. Which helps explain why a lost sheep might hunker down in it.

It "baaa'ed". I said, "Hello." And things progressed from there. Mostly due to MouseEye's ability to speak... what? Everything? Sheep, for sure. Anyway, it became pretty clear that the sheep didn't belong here. It wasn't sure where exactly it did belong, but it was able to give us a clue or two as to where to go. At least initially. And that was near the mountain, but a different face of it. We had a walk to get this sheep returned. I did have a bit of a quandary - return the sheep or get back to Whacky Roger. The sheep won out.

We picked our way along the side of Moonbreaker Mountain. There were animal paths that made things easier (when they existed and headed in roughly the supposed right way). And there were some places that were more... I don't want to say "precarious"... but there were places that guaranteed the sheep hadn't come through there. 

At one point we came across a large Gull-Drake nest. The birds weren't amused. Especially when I helped myself to bits of their nest (not structurally important bits!) and a bit of guano that was holding it together. They cried, swooped, pooped on (not collectable, unfortunately), and pecked at us. Thankfully it was more to scare than to injure. I thanked them and left (although I don't think they accepted my appreciation). 

As we made our way, the sheep had this amazing ability to find Candy Rock. And eat it. All of it. After it'd eaten the fourth lump, I began to worry it'd go into some sort of diabetic shock. How could it eat all that sweet? It was... ugh! And it would've been nice if it would leave one piece for me. (It did. Eventually. I decided to hide it deeper in a pocket than I usually put reagents because there was no telling if Sheepy would suddenly get hungry for my piece.) Clearly, with this sheep's ability to eat Candy Rock, it hadn't passed through this path. And maybe the sheep had been in a diabetic coma in that cave for a while. Maybe?

We did eventually spot a farm sitting in a lush valley. Shortly after, we heard sheep calls and sheep dogs. The sheep I was guiding no longer needed a guide  - it took off like a shot, glad to recognize its home. It took me longer to get there.

As I got closer, a few children ran out to meet me. "Did you find Gerty?", "What's your name?", "Mah!!!" were a few things yelled out. As I walked towards the main house, the children followed me and continued to yell out questions. 

A middle-aged woman emerged from the house, wiping her hands on an apron. "Greetings. Am I hearing correctly that you've brought our fool runaway sheep home?"

I said I had and that I'd found her in a Moonbreaker Mountain cave. 

"Is that a fact? I wonder what she was doing up there?"

I told her I suspected it was for Candy Rock.

"Hmm. Sounds like her. Anyway, my thanks for the service. Do you live locally? I don't believe I recognize you."

"I'm Mistress Sweetwater, the new witch near High Rannoc."

"Are you? Well, it's getting late enough that you shouldn't be travelling back. You'll twist an ankle or worse up there. You'll stay with us the night and can head back safely when the sun's up tomorrow."

I started to refuse, but she insisted. "Don't fret for room or board - we've plenty enough of both. Have to, what with all the little ones. And it's what we've always done for the High Rannoc witch."

"Oh! You knew the old witch?"

"Sure we did. Didn't come often but it was a joy to have her stay."

I was given an honour guard (one child was assigned to show me. The others came and helped) to see me to a bedroom (where I'd be sleeping with the girls) so I could clean up before supper. 

It was tasty and there was plenty. And by plenty, I don't simply mean the food. The whole family (including the father and a couple of older boys who'd been working in the fields) were excited, happy, and laughing. I think my presence was an excuse to have a bit of a party. 

After the meal and associated clean-up (I insisted that I help), we talked and sang and danced. 

Somewhere in all that I found out their family name is Bleater. I guessed sheep farming had been part of the family tradition for a long time!

Also somewhere in there, I was introduced to a song they liked to make up for guests. Apparently the old witch loved it and would come armed with a verse or two. It starts like this:

She'll be coming round the mountain when she comes (when she comes)

She'll be coming round the mountain when she comes (when she comes)

She'll be coming round the mountain

She'll be coming round the mountain

She'll be coming round the mountain when she comes (when she comes)

The she meaning me. 

The next verse was:

She'll be bringing back our Girty when she comes (when she comes)

(I'm sure you get the idea that it repeats just like the first stanza.)

And so on. 

I tried to make up a good line for the song. My creativity was "aided" with a nip (or two) or something very apple-y, very yummy, and very burn-y when swallowed! So I sang:

She'll be carrying a mouse-y when she comes (when she comes)

All eyes turned towards me when I sang that. Partly in a bit of shock, but mostly because MouseEye, the always-watchful, the never-seen, the little-trickster, was dancing on top of my head. I think I'd had enough of whatever it was for the both of us.

It was a delightful night. And overnight was... unusual... given that there were several of us all sleeping together in the same bed. Between the long day, the celebrations, and everything, I fell asleep right away. 

I was told by one of the young girls that I snored. But she said that it was funny to hear, so it was ok. 

One early, filling breakfast later, I was ready to go. Mrs. Bleater handed me a small pot of something sweet (it would keep just fine for use in my potion. She insisted on contributing to the potion since that was the original reason I'd been on the mountain in the first place). I bid them farewell and headed out.

It didn't take anywhere near as long to return as it had to get there - not trying to find and follow ley lines can save huge amounts of time! But it was mid-day when I got back to my cottage. To the peace, the quiet, and the grunts of satisfaction from skewering imagined vanquished foes.

I let him continue with his training session, I guess it'd be called, as I prepped and brewed the potion. It took seconds to mix the crushed rose hip seeds with the Glittersnow (quite melted now, but still effective), and the added sweet from the Bleaters.

My warrior prince patient would have licked it clean, I think. He seemed as eager for sweet as Girty was. Anyway, it was satisfying to see his bones finally settle down. 

The relief he was feeling was plain. His entire body relaxed. He even stopped stabbing everything around him. 

However, it was my turn to be uncomfortable. I knew he only charged ten silver for a protection trip and here I was about to charge him thirty for the potion plus four for each of the three doses of sweet. Forty-two silver. That wasn't a profitable trip for him at all!

Roger, to his credit, after he digested the cost, accepted it and paid. I encouraged him to let the doctor know about the additional cost of his healing and to add a term in his contract to include "damages to person". 

I also felt bad when he told me he'd slept the night beneath a tree. He said he felt uncomfortable sleeping in someone else's bed, especially a witch's bed. It took me a minute to digest that. But I gratefully accepted his sacrifice of personal comfort.

After he left, I got to work on the grounds. It wasn't that I'd not done anything on the land for weeks, but I wanted to get back to my usual routine. 

I finished up for the day and went into the cottage to make some food (nowhere near as tasty or as plentiful as last night's meal!), which is when I spotted a note on the mantlepiece. With a gentle glow coming from behind it.

That, I decided, would have to wait until tomorrow.

Spring, Week 4 - Don't Interrupt Necromancers

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

*****

 I've gotten into the habit of taking a bit of time daily to sit quietly in the cottage and looking up at the spirit house I built. And improved. It no longer resembles a lean-to. I won't say it's a proper house, but I'm happy to call what it is currently a house. Or at least resembles a house. Whatever. It's good enough for now.

As to why I do this... it's partly because it feels right and respectful. After three weeks of banging around, not really knowing what I was doing, but insisting I did know - to the point of nearly dismissing MouseEye - I felt a need to reset a bit. The last few days were a good start and I'm hoping to continue.

Another reason is I keep wondering if another letter, maybe from my new bestie Pip, who I'll probably never meet, or maybe from someone else, might arrive at any time. I've never been one for friendships but for the life of me I don't understand why I'm so fixated on watching the mail portal. Maybe I'm waiting to see what happens if someone sends something really big.

As I sit, my mind does love to wonder. Endless speculating. Like that idea of a big letter trying to squeeze out from behind my spirit house. But another topic that I've begun to ruminate on is the ramifications of not being able to treat someone, or of having them leaving dissatisfied because I wasn't able to effect a cure or do so quickly enough. To be honest, I've been harbouring these thoughts for a little while. Private speculation. But today I saw MouseEye was awake and around, so I asked.

He twitched his whiskers (it's so cute when he does that), then shrugged. "I know there's a doctor, of sorts, in High Rannoc. I guess they'd go to him."

"Of sorts?"

He shrugged again. "Mmhmm."

I stopped myself from asking why he gave a qualified answer. If MouseEye wanted to share, he would. So I internally shrugged back. And hit on another topic.

There's no doubt there's an underlying spirit or wisdom existing on the grounds. Or in the grounds. The wild rose recovering nearly instantly from being trampled. The bees so quickly becoming part of the property. Maybe even my ability, as an untrained novice, to not only recognize but safely collect reagents and then brew them into potions that are effective. Imagine someone using pine bark and bat guano to create a potion that would decrease flatulence! But that's how I feel. Yes - I have the book and something definitely happened when I read it. A knowledge transference of sorts.

Is the old witch somehow still here? Here yet not here? Here, inside me? I can't say I'm comfortable at all with that thought. However, I don't feel like there's someone inside me or with me. I feel like my thoughts are mine and not someone else's. But definitely something to keep in mind. Not everything is as it seems.

The rest of the day progressed normally - cooking, cleaning, reading the book, and trying to teach myself about places I haven't been to yet - all the chores that keep a place organized and functioning well. And then, tired, I went to bed. Only to be woken by MouseEye with a cryptic message, "Someone needing your help is coming."

It took me a second to react, but I did shake off the cobwebs, got dressed, and just started stoking the fire when a wild-eyed man pounded on my door. As I opened it, he fell forward into my living space, all the while looking over his shoulder, like he was being chased. His hoarse screams, or more like a rough, breathy, very muted pseudo-screams, were just creepy. What had he seen that had induced such fear and panic?

That thought was interrupted by his vomiting onto my floor. Had it been a normal spilling of stomach yuck, that would have been one thing. But when the vomit, instead of simply launching from mouth to floor, formed itself into a little dancing figure that then ran out my door into the night, that was something else. If only it hadn't left little vomit footsteps on my formerly clean floor.

Anyway, out the door the vomit-man went, I stood bemused, and the hoarse man hoarsely screamed again and tried to hide under my bed. Clearly, I needed more light - maybe that'd stop the fear reaction. Maybe?

A few minutes later, the fire was high enough to provide decent light. The intermittent screaming hadn't stopped, nor had the intermittent vomiting. He'd let loose twice more - one had become a small four-legged creature and hid in my cauldron (ewww!) and the other had squeezed under my bed and, I swear this is true, was making faces at the man.

With the light up, I could see the panicked white of his eyes, his vivid green skin, and incredibly white hair. Which didn't make sense - his body hair (eyebrows, arm hair, facial hair shadow) were all black. Something had scared him half-to-death. Which helped explain the screaming.

But green skin? Vomiting magical vomit? Not a fear reaction. That was more like a poisoning.

Dealing with the poisoning was the priority - without prompt treatment, things could become... complicated. Who knows just what it was that someone had brewed, or that he'd eaten, or whatever, and what could result. But there was no doubt, what with the animated vomitus, that he'd been poisoned and it had a magical element.

As another vomit creature ran across the floor, I bent down and tried to let my patient know I was going to gather reagents to deal with the poisoning, and that we'd tackle the fear reaction next. Maybe dealing with the poisoning would deal with the other too? I was hoping.

I gathered up my stuff and headed off. At night. To Hero's Hollow. 

Ah man.

Yup - my favourite place in the whole world and I get to go there in the dark.

I tried to be brave. I tried to look up at the stars and I tried to believe they would look out for me. I tried to remember that the spirit of the cottage hadn't steered me wrong yet, even when I was out of line. And I knew MouseEye would be with me and would do what he could to keep me safe.

Despite all my worry, all my alerting to every shriek and call and snap and more - the thousand sounds the wilderness makes at night - I got to the dungeon safely. The hardest part of the night so far, getting to the Hollow, was past. Now to navigate the now hardest part - the dungeon itself. One more round of thoughts towards asking for help and guidance from the cottage, the stars, MouseEye, whomever was bothering to listen, and then I entered.

The good part about going to the Hollow at night is that your eyes don't need to adjust. You go from outdoor dark to indoor dark, which is a different quality of dark, the indoor one being more complete, but dark to dark is fairly easy.

I relaxed and made my way into the dungeon. I knew I had to work quickly so I made my way to where I hoped I could find Coldrust. It's a blue rust that feeds on magical artifacts. I was hoping I could find that type of thing in the armoury spaces. A rusty magical weapon would be perfect for my uses.

As I walked quickly, I started to hear other footsteps. They weren't my steps echoing along corridors. It sounded like a small army. But an army in thick socks. The chest!

I spotted it as it turned a corner and ran towards me. It was a happy run, an eager run, a run that hoped I had a treat in my pocket. Feeling far more confident than I had a right to, I patted my pocket and felt a treat there. Thank you, MouseEye. I didn't say it aloud, but I heard him from close by, "You're welcome."

I gave the treat. It seemed happy. So I took an extra minute to give it some pets and scrunches. I think it purred. So I told it I was here to gather some things and asked if it wanted to help. I think it yapped happily. So we all headed for the armory, where we did indeed find Coldrust. One down!

Next up was Flood Bulb. There are two places where you can generally find it - traps that are based on water, and in canteens - nothing stores water more efficiently. And so despite asking the chest for help and prepared to go wherever it led, I expected we'd go to the kitchens. And we did. It did require some gentle handling - you absolutely don't want a bulb to burst inside your pack!

As we were leaving the kitchens and heading through the cafeteria/mess hall, I spotted another lucky find - Ghost Goo. Apparently a ghost was spending a lot of time in and around where everyone ate. Maybe it was the ghost of one of the only people ever to have lived that liked mass-produced food. A slop-loving memory? Anyway, for whatever reason, a ghost was leaving bits of goo all over the tables. And so I grabbed it gratefully.

We headed back to the dungeon's entrance, the chest padding along with MouseEye and I. One more set of scrunches and I was heading back to the cottage.

Oh, the reek as I approached. I almost wished it smelled like bog goblin again. Vomit people ran out to meet me. Vomit creatures were running amok in the cottage. It was nasty. Pandemonium. Unbearable. "Sir? You have to get your vomit under control! I can't brew in these conditions!"

He pointed out the door, did another hoarse scream, and out they went. I mopped up the necessary equipment and started prepping. I tossed the Coldrust and Flood Bulb into the mortar and started working them. The water that flooded out of the bulb was more than plenty for my potion - the water that flowed onto my floor would help me clean it later. 

My patient drank the offered cup. His skin seemed to lighten slightly from a deep green to a more faded one. And, thankfully, he stopped vomiting. As a side note, I think the vomit people found an abandoned gopher tunnel system. I wish them the best.

Anyway... with that crisis dealt with, it was time to deal with the root cause of all this. The potion, thankfully, gave my patient enough voice back that, while difficult to understand, was in the end understandable.

Not that what he told me was at all sensical. While the number of shrieks decreased, and the vomiting stopped, the few words he was able to utter between his screams said only something about a necromancer. 

Right. So... someone in the local area is doing magic and working with death? Ok - it's easy to see how seeing something, especially if you're unprepared to see something, could give you a terrible fright. 

And the funny (strange, not haha) bit is that the reagents I need to deal with this are in Hero's Hollow (oh yay! Another trip to that warm and fuzzy place) and have to do with necromancy: Vampire Venom and Skeleton Dust.

Or maybe I could simply brew something up involving pine bark and bat guano? Tempting but... no.

As I got ready to head out again, I kept an eye on my patient. Still wild-eyed frightened? Yup. Still intermittently screaming? Yup. But, for now anyway, not giving the appearance of being ready to bolt out the door.

"Sir? It's going to take me a bit of time to address your fright. Please know you are safe here. There's plenty of wood to keep the fire going, keep the cottage warm, and provide lots of light. When I get back, we'll have you feeling calmer, ok?" I got a nod. Good enough. And off I went.

The sun was just rising. The last bits of low-lying mist were just starting to burn off, revealing dew-draped undergrowth. The land looked magical!

I must admit my thoughts drifted to the whole concept of magic. I suppose, for example, the work I do could be seen by some as magic, despite my not adding any sort of supernatural anything to my potions. If reagents carry power, then I'll happily use that power, but as far as waving a magic wand over a bubbling cauldron to create some sort of malevolent miasma that would swallow High Rannoc just wasn't in the cards. Same with a healing vapour that nightly would take away people's hurts, wounds... even nightmares. 

Imagine that - a vapour that would help people feel better and healthier. I wondered if something like that could be created. Hmmm... interesting. But feels more like magical meddling than healing people who ask for help with bespoke potions. 

Before I knew it, I was back at the Hollows. Now to work through the new challenge of collecting harder reagents. Time to find some vampires. Ugh. Which meant exploring deeper into the dungeon. 

I made my way deeper in than I'd gone before. I half-hoped the walking chest would show up - that would have been comforting. Maybe if I asked...?

"MouseEye?"

"Mmhmm."

I tried to keep the quaver from my voice. "You wouldn't happen to know where a vampire is, would you?"

"Mmhmm."

I love it when he's so forthcoming. In a dark, scary, and frankly horrible place. "Are we going the right way?"

"Mmhmm."

Both good and bad news in my book, both involving getting closer and closer to a vampire. I asked MouseEye to keep me on track. And that track felt darker, more musty, and quite dank.

Why can't I spend more time in more pleasant places? Glimmerwood Grove is so lovely. The trees, the wildflowers, the...

"Greetingth Mithtrith."

The voice scared the beejeebers out of me. It was behind me - which in how in the world did anyone get behind me? - but at the same time the voice was quite calm. Almost welcoming. I froze, closed my eyes tightly (somehow that was supposed to bolster my nonexistent courage), and turned around slowly. Standing there was a figure. The lack of light made seeing details, like the person's face, difficult, but the bearing seemed... ok? I think a smile was on their face. And I say "their" because the voice gave nothing away about its sex. All I was getting was polite patient curiosity. 

I figured I needed to respond at some point. "Um... hi."

"Greetingth again, Mithtrith. If I may obtherve, you appear leth lotht than unthertin. May I help you in thome way?"

Ummm... sure. Why not. What could go wrong? Even if MouseEye isn't visible, I know he's close. "Yeth... oh, sorry - yes." They didn't react at all to my list slip. "I'm looking for a vampire."

That caused, I think, eyebrows to rise. "It'th not common that thomeone theeks out a vampire. May I enquire your reathonth for doing tho?"

I saw no harm in saying I needed a vampire's venom.

"Ah! Tho you are a witch, then? Exthellent! Follow me, pleathe."

We walked down another corridor - I'm not sure if I would've spotted it on my own - and arrived at a small room. It had a small table with a couple of chairs in it, a candle that provided a bit of light, and an open book lay in front.

"Pleathe excuthe the meth. Marthter and I don't get many vithiterth. Have a theat."

I sat down slowly. Maybe even warily. Marthter?

"I don't mean to be rude, but who is your master?"

The figure came into the candlelight.

Note to self - if my patient saw this person unexpectedly, that could explain their fright. While some features spoke to good-natured friendliness, like the shy smile and gentle eyes, others were less so. The mass of scars and stitching all about their face and head, the third arm sticking out from their chest, and the small knife in that hand. My eyes glued onto it.

He looked down. "Oh! My apologieth! I feel motht comfortable with a thcapel in my hand. Thith one, however, ithn't for thurgery - it'th my dip pen." He set it down on the table then he sat in the other chair. It felt menacing but he seemed to be ignoring it.

"My marthter ith a vampire. He'th currently thleeping. It'th been a buthy night and, of courthe, it'th now day. Tho, what ith it you need venom for?"

I told him - definitely a him - about my patient. The scarred man laughed. I think it was good-natured. 

"Thorry, but you mutht thee the humour here. Your pathient came down latht night. He wanted a reanimated thkeleton, for thome reathon. Thcared my marthter motht terribly - he jutht popped out of nowhere, interrupted a delicate piethe of magical work. Which cauthed a rather dramatic meth, I'm telling you. And that thcared all of uth. Marthter had to thcramble to keep the world from imploding, the man fled into my laboratory, and I had to run after him. Marthter, of courths, would want him punithed, tho I got him to drink a pothon that would eventually turn him into a zombie. Temporarily, of courthe. Anyway, marthter called for me, tho I had to leave the man to hith own devitheth. Apparently, he ran to you. And now you wish to cure him."

Gulp. "I hope that's ok with you."

"Oh, thertanly. I bear him no ill will and like I thaid, marthter only wanted him punithed for a little while. Let'th thee... for a fright, you'll altho want thkeleton dutht. Correct?"

I could only nod.

"Wonderful. Let me take you to where you can wait. It'th the library, of thorts. I think you'll find thingth of interetht there."

The library turned out to be quite the space. The room was big and airy, book shelves lined the walls, and a ready supply of candles meant it would be easy to browse the volumes. As I started to look around, the scarred servant asked, "What happened to the old witch? Do you know?"

"No, sorry. I just moved in recently. All there was about her whereabouts was a few lines in a book that she'd written and had open. It said that if I was reading it, she must be either missing or dead."

"Hmmm... pity. Marthter quite liked her. Oh well." And with that, he was off. And I can't say that I paid much attention to his leaving. The books were drawing my attention. The range of topics was so diverse - how to reanimate anything from an ant to a dragon and all manner of creatures in between, getting answers to questions by calling on the spirits of the dead, creating loyal servants through the use of potions, and more. 

Creating loyal servants? Using potions? Um... note to self - politely decline any and all offers of beverages.

I don't know how long I'd been in there. I was just transfixed. This place was amazing. So full of secrets, knowledge, ancient wisdom... and then I discovered a letter tucked in an unassuming spot between two large volumes detailing the life and times of assorted necromancers from the distant past. It wasn't sealed or anything, so I opened it. I couldn't help but notice that the handwriting was familiar. Very familiar. It was the same as in my book. The old witch had written it. I sat down and read the whole thing.

The salutation read "My dearest Count". The letter itself was a goodbye. That she was going to be heading for someplace called "The Imperial City" and that that trip was bound to be long, dangerous, but entirely necessary - "...for reasons we've discussed at length and don't bear repeating again." But it was also an invitation - that the Count should go to her before she left in the morning. She promised a delightful night by way of goodbye but that she also understood that accepting that invitation could be too much to ask for. And something about her ambivalence about traveling with Humphrey. I gathered Humphrey was a pet. A pet cow.

Huh. A cow? As a pet? That was weird.

"Ah! I thee you found her letter."

I felt blurry, fuzzy, just deep into all this reading. Unnaturally muddled.

"The old witch would visit the Hollow routinely. Found all thorth of excutheth to thtay. One time to give bootieth to the Mimic, another time to rethycle metal in the old prithon block. Alwayth vithiting, alwayth hoping the marthter would notithe her."

I just nodded while fighting off the cog fog. "And did he notice her?"

The scarred servant looked pained. "Yeth. Thee wath a terrible dithtraction. I feared he'd thtop her from leaving, or worthe, go with her! Tho I hid that letter. He thinkth thee abandoned him. Got him good and angry. Focuthed. And he very nearly completed hith experiment latht night."

I was recovering. "And nearly imploded the world."

He shrugged. "There are rithkth to what he doeth." Then he added, "If it maketh you feel any better, you'd never know that it'd happened. One second ok, the next second gone."

Uh huh. Don't argue with the servant of a necromancer. Get what you came for and get out. "Do you have the reagents you went to get for me?"

"Don't you want to thtay and read some more? The Marthter wath looking forward to talking to you. I'm brewing up a lovely tea."

Politely decline! "Oh! No, thank you. I really need to get back. Um... how long have I been in here?"

"Oh... not long."

"Oh! Well... maybe I could..." Which is when I spotted MouseEye sitting on a shelf behind the scarred servant gesticulating, and loudly gesticulating, if gestures could make noise, that I should leave. "... just take the reagents from you, with gratitude, and then head back."

He paused for a second, then, "The Igor Code requireth that I uphold an untholithited offer. But pleathe promithe that you'll pay uth a vithit thome other day."

I said I would. MouseEye grimaced but that seemed to be the only way to get my reagents and leave without further incident.

As we made our way back, I asked MouseEye about his reaction. "It's ok. You promised to visit both Igor and the vampire. Which means it'll have to be at night. When the Count's awake. But we can prepare adequately and keep you safe."

"But I thought it'd be ok. The old witch..."

"The old witch may or may not have been... manipulated. but the fact that she left of her own accord means she either wasn't magicked, or she figured out a way out of it. Anyway, it'll be fine." The comforting part of his message was dispelled with his mumbled, "I hope."

Great. Well, time later to worry about that. I had a panicked patient, probably impatient, waiting.

To his credit, he was still waiting at the cottage. White knuckles gripped the table, feet tapped, knees bounced, white hair practically frizzled with electricity. If I didn't know better, it looked like he'd eaten a lot of laxative and was about to lose his battle with the call of nature. Actually... I didn't know better. So, I hoped I wouldn't be cleaning up more than sticky vomit prints.

It took no time at all to crush the skeleton bone into dust and sprinkle it onto the venom in the bottom of a cup. He drank it down willingly. Within a couple of minutes, the knuckles turned a calmer pink, the feet and knees stopped their incessant movement, his eyes lost their wildness, and his head began to slump onto his chest. And seconds later, he was snoring in my bed. *sigh* At least someone gets to grab some rest. I stepped outside and began my morning routine.

To be frank, I wasn't happy my bed was being used by anyone other than me. Never mind that others may have dozed on it while I was working, and that the old witch most certainly used it prior to my moving in, but still! And yet, to be fair, with what he'd been through, no doubt he was tired.

And then I realized he'll probably be ravenous when he wakes. So... time to prepare food for two. Which also means he spends more time here.

As I got back to work, I thought about my thoughts about this prolonged visit. And how much I didn't like it. The intrusion into my life here was something I simply disliked. But I'd manage today. Be polite, be professional, be sympathetic, be gently insistent that he leave.

I didn't get my chance to be all that for several hours. But he did finally emerge, looking much calmer and relaxed. And as predicted, he was hungry.

I thought it'd be a great opportunity to hear his story. Or at least the reasons behind his story. After all, I already knew where he'd been when things went bad. I wanted to know the why.

It took nothing to get him talking. I started to pry and he just opened up. "I don't believe I properly introduced myself last night. Cornelius McTwitter, physician to the town of High Rannoc. Pleased to make your acquaintance. My apologies for the state I was in last night. Completely unprofessional on my part. And to think it was all from my attempt to purchase a skeleton. Reanimated skeleton. No better kind to have in a medical office. I can have it point out to my patients the parts of the body affected when dealing with medical issues. By the way, I noticed you seem to be lacking a reanimated skeleton."

I agreed that I didn't possess one.

He nodded in acknowledgement. "In fact, I don't see that you have much of an establishment at all. No books, no laboratory equipment. How do you properly examine someone's urine without a laboratory?"

"I don't see the need. For instance, I cured you of your afflictions and didn't need to use any equipment."

"And you have no leeches. How can you balance humours without bleeding a patient?"

I just smiled and said, "Again, I cured you without them."

He looked indignant. "But certainly you just got lucky! Or I was already on the mend!"

I was getting testy. "You were on your way to becoming a zombie because you interrupted a necromancer in the middle of a magical spell and his Igor handed you a potion that was a poison that you drank." 

"Now really! That's too much. I mean, yes, I did go to see the gentleman and he did look busy, but how else do you arrange to purchase a reanimated skeleton. It's not like he consigns them through Bits & Bobs."

"That gentleman is a vampire."

"Oh, pish! Nonsense! Vampire, indeed!"

"That was vampire venom you just drank."

He scoffed. "Probably something completely innocuous, like a wildflower root. Witches have all sorts of scary-sounding names for not-scary things."

Right. I was done. "Well, I'm glad to see you have an appetite again. So if you don't mind, I do have things I need to tend to, like cleaning up little vomit-people footprints. And I'm sure your clinic needs its doctor back."

"Oh! Yes! Didn't realize it was getting on in the day. What do I owe you?"

Since these were more serious conditions, I increased my price. Thirty silver for each cure, sixty total. The lunch I threw in for free. The hours of scrubbing my cottage clean of the ravages of last night's chaos would help me release my rage at his ignorance. 

He didn't blink as he laid the money on the table. "Right! A very good day to you." And with that, he left. And I breathed a sigh of relief.