Also Also, Spring Week 11 - Liberation

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

*****

 I called for Vapour Trail. This time I got an acknowledgment. In the minutes between call and arrival, I gathered the other reagents that I could carry, pulled out Slow and draped her over my neck, then waited a few seconds before the broom arrived in her glowing glory. 

And then I remembered the ability to configure Pop as I needed. So I did. Cunk, after watching in disbelief as the light tower formed into a cargo elevator of sorts, allowing for huge mushroom cap transport, turned to me, slowly. "You witch? Ha! Yes! But not only." He then conspiratorially got in close (and I held my breath as best as I could). "Cunk friend. You remember. Cunk friend." He patted me on the shoulder (hard enough to bruise but not so hard as to knock me off my feet), got the mushrooms loaded, watched as Bess and I got situated, then waved as we flew off. 

It wasn't far to the cottage. "Bess, what was that you were saying in the boat?"

"It can wait until this round of crazy is over and we can talk without interruption. What I want to know is what's the plan for curing your patient?"

I told her.

"Seriously? Oh my goodness, you are serious. No. You aren't doing that alone. I'm coming with."

"But Bess! What are you going to do?"

"Look, there are things you are brilliant at. But in this one, you're going to need help from someone who's brilliant with a different skill set. And that's me."

We'd landed, our familiars had come over and seemed to want our collective attention, but we discussed the plan - no longer simply my plan, but our plan - until we each agreed. Neither of us was completely happy with it, but it was the best we could devise given the situation.

"Sounds complicated." That was MouseEye.

"Foolish, if you ask me. Which no one did." And that was Marvin.

"It's ok, you two. There's no need to be a part of it. You can sit this one out."

"Must I?" was the automatic reply. And then, I think, he realized just what he'd said.

"Well, if you want to be a part of it, that'd be great."

I don't know why, in the middle of all this, I found amusement in watching MouseEye's face wrestle with backing out or continuing on.

"Well... ok. Besides, you'll need me to watch."

"Ok, fine. Leave me behind. Again." Marvin, of course.

A few words of encouragement from Bess later had all four of us taking part in this cure mission.

The potion took a minute to put together. That was the easy part. The anticipated hard part was going to be getting our unwitting patient to drink it.

That's the point of contention that's been causing so much stress and anxiety. We knew (or strongly surmised) that Mrs. Ruffage, in catching Dragon Sickness and gathering students, possibly even just people in general, was somehow sedating them; it was highly unlikely that a large group of people would be unable to force their way to freedom. We could only assume that entering the building was a one-way trip. Unless, of course, we could effect a cure. Which is why it wasn't the potion itself that was the important part but instead the presentation of the potion that was; we had to make sure she drank it. Otherwise, things could get dicey. Bess, bless her, figured that because she was better at steering people to do things, and in particular people acting like a dragon, that she should be involved. I think too, she figured having another set of hands could be useful. MouseEye was another set of eyes and ears (yes, he's also an unreliable agent in all this, but still...). And Marvin... self-titled Smartest Creature on Earth. I had no idea how a talking donkey would be received but it was worth trying. Maybe the sheer confusion he'd introduce would help.

With the potion in a vial and ready to be administered, the four of us walked to High Rannoc. On the way, Bess started mumbling to herself, even trying out a tune. 

"What's that?" I had to ask.

"Hmmm...? Oh... just focusing on what we're doing in the moment and trying to not think about all the ways this could go wrong."

"Oh."

"Yeah. So... right now I've got something like this:

We're off to see the teacher

The magical teacher who's cursed

We hear she is a wiz of a witch

If ever a witch there was"

"You're able to think in songs at a time like this? Amazing!"

"You cope your way. I cope mine."

The laughter that followed was a bit forced and died off quickly. But the interaction was long and absorbing enough to get us to the High Rannoc gates. That were closed.

Camped outside the gates were a couple of travelling merchants. They appeared to have settled in, with a fire going, horses grazing, and tents set up. One merchant looked up.

"Ho there! The gates are closed!"

Just on the edge of hearing, Marvin muttered, "Captain Obvious to the rescue. What's next? 'You looking to go into town?'"

"You looking to go into town?"

"It hurts being right all the time."

As Bess shushed the donkey, I responded. "How long have you been camped out here?"

"Oh, not long. A couple of hours, maybe. Tried getting someone's attention to find out about the gates, but..." He shrugged to finish his statement.

We stared at the gates. I so wanted to just rip rotting boards off the rotting wall but that was more a thought towards my anxiety than a helpful plan. I knew it'd be simple to fly over the wall and open the gate. But... what if that was the point? What if it was a trap? Or what if I was grossly overthinking this?"

"MouseEye?", I asked, knowing the probable answer.

"Mmmhmm?"

Surprise number one - no, wait - this was bigger than a mere number could express - the mouse was still within earshot and willing to answer. "Can you check to see if it's safe on the other side of the gate?"

"Thinking about traps?"

"In this moment, that's all I can think about."

"Okay."

Surprise number... never mind numbering them; MouseEye was actually taking a look when I asked. I was shocked. Relieved! And shocked.

"It's clear", he said a moment later.

With that reassurance, I summoned Vapour Trail. I figured I could load up us four, get into town, and then... I wasn't sure what. At the last minute before the broom arrived, I gave the potion to Bess. "I have a feeling she's going to be focusing on me. So I hope that will give you space to dose her." Bess gulped but then nodded and accepted the vial. 

Although I could've had Vapour Trail land in front of us, I decided it'd be better to have it fly into the palm of my hand with a satisfying smack. The merchants' eyes went white with surprise. "I believe there is danger lurking on the other side of these walls. My friends and I are going to deal with it. When the danger is over, we'll get the gates open for you."

Now it was their turn to mutely nod.

I just wished I was half as confident as I sounded.

It would have been a quick hop over the High Rannoc wall. And, in hindsight, I guess it was. At the same time, as we sailed into the air and cleared the boundary between inside and outside, I found myself seeing a third option - flying into the sky and never coming back. Which, to be honest, hit me. I'd never considered leaving this place but perhaps in some way, shape, or form, I was starting to think in terms of being elsewhere.

But thinking through that thought would have to wait - there was something seriously wrong in town. It couldn't simply be a case of one person's Dragon Sickness.

I landed us in front of the Hightower residence. I figured that since I'd told Francie that I'd alert Madam Hightower that I was about to go to the Herbology School, I should do just that.

No one came to the front door when I knocked. Same at the back entrance. But it was unlocked. I let myself in... and found no one. This wasn't good.

I told Bess what I'd found. Or, hadn't found.

"That's not good."

"I know, right?"

"So what's the plan now? Does it change?"

"I think we're all going to have to be really careful. I'm just not sure what's going to happen."

We stood in silence for a minute. Then Bess said, "You know, if it weren't for the fact that it seems like the whole town could be... abducted, I guess is the right word... I'd be thinking about leaving this place. For now, anyway. And maybe getting some help."

"I hear you. I just don't know who we could enlist in this. And even if I was to seek help, it could take longer than some of those people have left. I mean... we don't know exactly what's happening in the school."

We shared resigned shrugs. And then started to walk towards the school building. We'd find out soon enough just how bad things were.

On the way, I found myself wondering who I could ask for help were I to seek help. The Count and Igor might be willing. I even had Richard's debt of appreciation for the cure I gave him a few weeks ago. The Sphinx might be willing, as might the Noble Elf in Glimmerwood Grove. Even Cunk, perhaps even his brethren, could help. But for each of them, I found a reason why it was impractical.

With each step closer to the school, the reasoning 'we're running out of time' loomed larger. Until we were standing in front of the rather unimpressive unimposing building.

As I approached the door, it opened, revealing the smiling face of the mayor's wife. Now, when I say 'smiling', it wasn't a good smile. Instead, it was self-satisfied, gloating, scary.

What had I walked into?

"Well, hello, Mistress Sweetwater. And you brought friends! Delightful. All of you will make your way inside. Just follow the blubbering cries of Francie. She'll be so happy to see you."

Now... I hadn't considered this. Not that this was at all foreseeable. Not even MouseEye saw it coming - he was on my shoulder when we were confronted. Drat. I did hear Bess direct Marvin in, as if he were an ordinary donkey. And we also heard Francie start calling out, panicked, asking us to not do anything heroic. 

I made my way to the room where Francie was. Behind her, holding a knife to her throat, was Mrs. Ruffage. And next to her was the mayor. In his hands was a doll.

"Well, isn't this cozy?", said the mayor with a smile that mirrored his wife's. Mrs. Ruffage, meanwhile, had a crazed look in her eyes. "Cozy? Oh, yes. Oh, I've been wanting for you, my dear. I've a collection of treasures, but not every gem is a jewel. You, dear, are a jewel and will be the prize of my trove."

Meanwhile, Bess and Marvin crammed in behind me, followed by the mayor's wife. Cozy? Not anymore. It was stuffed!

"You look confused. Allow me to explain it to you." This was the mayor, Oliver Chutney. "You see, no one likes you. I'd hoped you'd leave with the rumours swirling about me and you. But no, you stayed. Bought a broom, even. By the way, where is it?" He directed that at his wife.

"It's outside." That was his wife.

He looked annoyed. "You brought in a mule but didn't think it important to secure a magical broom?"

"Donkey.", I said.

"Mule. Donkey! Ass!! I don't care!!!"

"It's just that..."

"Silence, Sweet! Or should I say, Abigail?"

And there it was. The name I'd been advised to hide, and which of course the school knew. And so did the mayor. Who now had a long needle pointed at the doll's head. "Do you know what this is, Abigail? It's a kewpie doll. In an age where everyone insists on having more and more flash in their magic, I far prefer the tried and true. Allow me to show you." In went the pin into the doll's head. And I... didn't feel a thing.

Oliver, meanwhile, just grinned. "Oooo... a tough one, eh? You and me and dolly make three. I'm going to..."

"No! I'm going to place her in my collection with the others. You shall not harm my precious treasure."

The mayor's wife, meanwhile, had grabbed at Marvin to try to drag him out. And that's when things got really interesting.

Marvin refused to budge no matter how hard she tried to move him. She made the mistake of getting behind Marvin and trying to grab his back legs. Instead, she got kicked in the chest and was launched out of the room. Hearing that, I summoned Vapour Trail, which flew into the room and started to swat Oliver's head with her bristles. 

Within all that, I heard Bess exclaim in surprise, then felt Sarah being pulled out of my pocket by MouseEye. Mrs. Ruffage's eyes went wide in greedy excitement. She grabbed hold of my wand... and stopped moving. MouseEye shot me a look that meant I should grab hold of the wand and enter her space. 

I opened my eyes. I was standing in front of the lone tree on the hill. The glowing form of Sarah stood beside me. Looking confused, holding her head, and spinning in circles, was Mrs. Ruffage. I walked over to her.

"Mrs. Ruffage? You're safe. You're..."

"In your wand. Yes. And I, at least for now, have my mind back. I have a feeling your friends are administering a potion to cure me. Dragon Sickness, if I'm not mistaken."

"Yes, ma'am." 

"I think I know how they infected me with it. A book, of all things. I started reading it and all of a sudden collecting treasure was all important. But not just any treasure - people. I had the school making sleeping draughts for days."

"A book? You mean they're responsible for attacking Count von Rannoc?"

"Sorry? Who's that, dear?"

"The vampiric necromancer living in Hero's Hollow?"

"Oh, him. Is that his name? I've only ever been interested in gathering a bit of venom from him from time to time. His curious assistant..."

"Igor."

"Really? Igor... hmmm... anyway, he collects it for me as needed."

Sarah took the following pause to interject. "You must depart. Things are reaching their conclusion."

I opened my eyes. Bess had somehow maneuvered herself to Mrs. Ruffage's side and stood there holding an empty vial. Oliver was curled up in a corner as the broom continued to beat him with bristles. MouseEye was sitting on the doll on the other side of the room. Francie had forced herself into a corner and was trying to shrink herself even smaller. And Marvin... he was standing over and keeping a watchful eye on a very still wife.

Mrs. Ruffage began trying to move. Bess, bless her, tried to look threatening.

"Bess, it's ok. The potion's working."

Bess backed off, a little uncertain. Mrs. Ruffage looked her in the eye. "The potion is working. Thank you. And now it's time to revive the town and the early-arrivals for the festival revels. Let me recommend we see to the senior staff first."

As she began to compose herself, Marvin asked, "I want to lie down on her. I know it'd be inappropriate, but I'm hoping someone, anyone, will say I'm wrong. Not that I ever am, but in this case I'll hold onto a glimmer of hope." When, after a few seconds of awkward silence had passed, he said, "Figures."

It was as if the room began to exhale: Mrs. Ruffage set off to begin helping all those she'd trapped, Francie declared she needed to be by Madam Hightower's side when she came to, and Bess and Marvin moved the now groaning Mrs. Chutney to where someone could see to her likely broken ribs safely. With a word from me, Vapour Trail stopped beating the mayor, who cried out in relief.

Seeing the opportunity, I crouched in front of him. "Why didn't your magic doll work?"

He looked from me to a very aggressive broom menacing him (there's something unnerving about a magical object that's just beaten you senseless while it hasn't broken a sweat. Not that it's possible for a broom to sweat, but when you're used to equating exertion with perspiration, not seeing the latter gives every indication it's still ready and willing to do the former), he complied and answered. "I don't know. It's always worked in the past. Even your predecessor succumbed eventually. Oh, she was tough but...". And then he shrugged.

I needed... space. Clarity. Answers. The truth. The world was unhinged, spinning, zooming past as I careened down the suddenly twisting hallway and heaving floor. Because... that name, the one I'd attached to for all my life (but for the last few months) was now not only disassociated from me (I really had come to embody 'Mistress Sweetwater'), but also just plain wrong. A lie. I didn't know who I was. I had to go, to move, to fly...

Vapour Trail was in my open hand, vibrating, potent, impatiently waiting. I climbed on to her bristles, not wanting anything except the feel of icy air blowing me to smithereens: cleansing, purifying, annihilating.  

I launched, the air screaming from the ferocious ascent. I'd never dared to fly so fast, so carelessly, incautiously. Clouds dissolved as I jetted through them. I think I was aiming at the sun itself.

Through tear-streaming eyes, I saw MouseEye perched on the broom's handle, sitting, smiling, whiskers twitching. Bastard - I can never stay angry in the face of twitching whiskers. But I wasn't about to release this any time soon.

"What do you want?", I shrieked.

By all rights, his answer should've been swallowed by the roaring wind, but I heard him as clearly as if we were talking in the cottage. "I'm proud of you, Mistress Sweetwater. And that I'm happy I stayed at the Familiar Summoning ceremony. Everyone else missed out."

"Oh yeah? But who the hell am I?"

"Exactly who you are. No more, no less. Names don't matter."

"Oh yeah? What do you know?"

He just kept smiling. "I know you call me a name that is now mine but wasn't before. And you used to be called a name that wasn't fully you. That's probably why the doll didn't work."

"But...!"

We both stayed silent, thinking. At least, I was.

"May I assume you're going to let Count von Rannoc know about the source of the trapped book?"

"Absolutely."

"Then may I suggest we go there now? Perhaps a necromancer will have insights we don't."

The Count? The Hollow? Why not! Besides... it was freezing up here!

By the time we arrived, I'd calmed down a bit. I wasn't seeing red anymore - it was more like a dusky pink. Still red-ish, but not so vivid. Also, the sun had set, meaning the count should be up and around and available to see me.

I walked into the Count's rooms (I'd been tempted to fly in but MouseEye cautioned that all it would take was one bad turn and things could get... difficult), swept passed Igor, and into the Count's study. He was reading a book, looked up at me, over to Igor who'd followed me in, shook his head subtly, then closed the book and regarded me.

"Igor, tea please." He then sat back. "The tale playing across your face is bursting to be vocalized. But do take a minute to compose yourself. Only when you are ready should you begin. And, I beg you, from the beginning."

Sip, breathe, talk.

The Count help up a hand. "Twice more. Then begin."

Sip. Breathe. 

Sip.

Breathe.

Talk.

I told him everything. The Dragon Sickness, The mayor and his wife. The book. The doll. The failed magical attack and the supposed problem.

I paused. He looked thoughtful. Then, "Igor."

"Yeth, Marthter?"

"I believe we're going to have the mayor and his wife for dinner tonight. Do make sure everything's in readiness."

"Indeed? Excthellent, Marthter!"

The count viewed me again. "So a curse requiring your name failed? That is interesting."

And this is where Sensibility, which had been consigned to a small locked cupboard in the dark recesses of my mind, finally broke free, shouting as it approached, that having a vampiric necromancer help in this regard was about a stupid a thing as anyone could ever do.

My face must have fallen in the moment, because Richard smiled, pleasantly. There wasn't a hint of rapacious wolf or crazed bat in his demeanour. "Yes, you've just realized what you've asked and of whom you've asked it. I currently owe you two debts - the one just now, informing me who was responsible for the cursed book in the first place, and that of curing the curse inflicted on me. I shan't hurt you nor act against you. What I will do, however, is consult Askew. Come."

We ended up in a room dominated by an elaborate series of chalked circles, symbols, candles, and I want to say there was more in there but I can't clearly recall now. Bidding me stand next to him, he spoke and chanted and made elaborate gestures and... then it was over.

"I should have guessed.", he said.

"Should have guessed what? And weren't you going to call Askew for help?"

"I did. It's done. You have no memory of it because, in a sense, it didn't happen within this space and time. But I do have an answer."

"Ok?"

"Let's go back to my study. It may take a minute to explain."

So we did. And it did. And... wow.

"So... what you're saying is, and I am still in disbelief, that my father is a woodcutter..."

He nodded.

"...and my mother is a dryad?"

He nodded again. "And isn't it fitting your chosen pseudonym is 'Sweetwater'. For what is sap, the precious fluid of trees? Sugar water. Or, in your case, Sweetwater."

"But... I chose it without thinking! I had to pick something and..."

"...and you unconsciously honoured your heritage."

Once again, everything began to swim. Reality was determined, and I mean dead-set, on making sure no rock was left unturned in remaking my life experience. My life! My... Everything!

Richard looked compassionate. "It's a lot. You've been through a lot. The question is... What are you going to do with what you now know?"

"I..." That stopped me. So many things had happened. So many things. I needed... I needed a hug. A discussion. A plan. I needed Bess. "I'm going to go back to High Rannoc, help with what I can, go to the cottage, and talk and think and maybe not decide anything but definitely process everything."

"A fine answer. Now, not to be rude, but I do have dinner plans that I eagerly wish to see through to fruition."

Numbly, slowly, I made my way out. To Vapour Trail. To High Rannoc. To seemingly all its residents. Hugs. Heart-filled thanks. Tears. Apologies. Explanations. Catharsis repeated over and over again.

Bess. She found me. I slumped against her, or she against me against her.

Not 'against'. Never 'against'. Just 'we'. She and me. Side by side. Together. Safe. Always.

We got onto Vapour Trail. Called to MouseEye and Marvin, who also boarded. "Take us home."

I don't remember anything else about that night.

Spring, Week 7 - That Which Giveth, That Which Taketh Away

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

*****

 The days are getting longer, the nights shorter. Nature is drinking up the sunshine, bringing life and activity to the land. Not to say that the land's been dead! Far from it! But there's a noticeable difference in tonight's sunset than there was when I first arrived seven weeks ago.

Seven weeks! I can't believe time has gone so fast! And I'm certainly not the same person I was, bumbling into a role that, if I'm being completely honest, would have seemed an insurmountable challenge. And yet here I am.

I feel like I'm at peace with things. I know there's more to be discovered, more territory I've yet to visit, more ailments that will need treatment, but I'm at peace with where I am, and even who I am.

Watching the last of the twilight dim, I felt like I'd been part of a daily ceremony, the changing of the guard from day to night. Oddly satisfying, in its way, almost as if the desire to do morphs into the desire to rest. And that, after any day at the cottage, is a feeling I willingly embrace!

I'd banked the fire, letting it sleep. It too would be called upon with the new day. Pop's gentle glow as it moved about the cottage, floating where it will or settled on the spirit house, was comforting. MouseEye's usual spot was empty, but that in itself wasn't unusual - he would just as often disappear as reappear... ok - that's obvious, I guess! What I'm trying to say is that MouseEye isn't tied to my side. Wherever he is, I know he's safe. And I hope he's not intrusive or indiscreet!

Which brings my thoughts to Roger. Bathing. That was... I just don't need to see that much of anyone ever again! Chuckling to myself (and probably I'll be chuckling about it for a very long time), I sat in front of the spirit house, relaxed and breathed, and let the day's memories and labours release.

I did wonder, as I sat, if when I sleep I somehow connect with the Here Yet Not Here. Is it somewhere you can go? Much like up beyond the clouds in Madcap's balloon, could a voyager find themselves Here Yet Not Here? What would that be like? How would it work?

Could I package myself up, set myself on the mantlepiece, and end up... at Pip's house? Could I go elsewhere? What would that be like!?!

When I start to let my mind wander at night (like I "let" it - it just flies off in a direction and I feel like I'm running after it - again like Madcap's balloon), I know my sleep will be more active, less restful. I'll have cobwebs aplenty come morning but maybe overnight I'll garner insights, or inspirations, or epiphanies. But none of that will come until I let me mind drift off with head on pillow.

I close my eyes and doze off. Sleep envelopes. 

And a knock awakens. "Mithtrith?"

Igor? Pop's glow increased, allowing me to find my clothes and throw them on.

Opening the door, I saw Igor's worried face, brows knitted, hands (all three) clenching and squeezing, always in motion. "Please, come in. Take a seat and tell me what brings you here."

He did as I invited. And then told me about Richard, Count von Rannoc, vampire, necromancer. "He doethn't theem himthelf. And now he'th thaying he wantth to watch the thunrithe."

"It... I mean... he won't die, will he?", I asked.

"No. But it thertainly won't be good for him."

"Do you want me to tend to him?"

"I'm embarrathed to athk, but yeth. Pleathe. Thith ith beyond me."

I spent some more time asking about his condition, when it'd started, noticeable symptoms. And Igor, being not just an assistant but one versed in science and observation, was a wealth of information.

As I consulted the old witch's book, MouseEye sat down on the open page. I asked with a glance if he'd heard everything. With a small nod he indicated he had. With a small shrug I said I wasn't sure what it was but tentatively pointed at an ailment description. With a small shrug back he said my guess was as good as his so let's run with that diagnosis for now. 

Or maybe he thought we were talking about something completely unrelated to the visit. 

Anyway, I thought about a plan of action for the case. I had Princess Toad mucous already (and what is it with so many reagents being slimy and gross!?!). Mixed with Coldrust (and luckily I knew where to get some in Hero's Hollow), it'd make a cure for the ailment known as Loss of Experience. I had no idea how someone so old and knowledgeable as the Count could catch something like this, but it made sense in all other respects.

I grabbed the slime... sorry... the mucous reagent... and a few other things and made ready to go to the dungeon. I wasn't sure if I was more or less comforted that Igor would be joining me but I figured at the very least he'd make for interesting conversation on the way.

Such was not the case. Igor, despite appearances, could walk faster than was comfortable for me. I half-trotted to keep up, not leaving me with much breath for talking. I did manage to ask if the Count knew we were coming.

"No. But the Marthter will apprethiate your expertithe when we arrive."

From what I'd gathered about the necromancer's temperament when confronted with the unexpected, this wasn't a great idea. I tried to trust Igor's judgement. I'd almost succeeded by the time we entered the Hollow.

I opted to detour us to the armoury, the site of my last Coldrust harvest, to gather some before making our way to the Count's rooms. The rusting magical weapons and armour may be of no use to warriors but it's a treasure trove of Coldrust for me!

Igor then led us to his "Marthter'th chamberth". It was a quick walk - again mostly because Igor was moving at a speed that would be a near-certain ankle twister for anyone else. Maybe he found a way to distill some of the faires' rat spit so that he could go faster?

I felt my mind begin to wander. And... I stopped it. This was no place to not pay attention to where you're stepping!

Soon enough, we arrived. Igor bade me stay back a couple of paces - to announce me, I guess. I heard:

"Marthter? Mithtrith Thweetwater ith here to thee you."

"Why? For what purpose? And have you seen my book on theories of the beyond?"

"Yeth, Marthter. It'th on your dethk, Marthter. And no, I don't know why the witch ith here, Marthter."

"Hmm? Ah, yes. The book is here. Very good. And now if only I had my codex handy..."

"It'th altho on your dethk, Marthter. Next to the book."

"Ah. Yes. So it is. Good. Umm... I feel like I'm missing something..."

"Yeth, Marthter. Mithtrith Thweetwater ith here to thee you."

"Is she? I'm... very busy... have her... uh..."

As they were talking, Igor reached for my arm, then gently guided me forward. Then another arm reached behind me and gave me a hefty shove forward on my back. I looked up into the eyes of a startled necromantic vampire.

I did mention, didn't I, that his behaviour when startled isn't exactly... carefully considered? Today, however, was different.

"Oh! Mistress Sweetwater, right? How unexpected."

I turned to look for Igor. He was gone.

"I... ah... yes. I thought I'd check in on you. I..."

"Check in on me? Hmmm... Why? Has Igor been gossiping again?"

"Ah... no! No. But he did say you were contemplating watching the sunrise and I thought it'd be lovely to do together."

"Did he now? And... was I really planning to do that? Well... sorry you came all this way, but I'm far too busy to be galavanting off. I've... have you seen my book on theories of the beyond?"

As I was about to point it out, I spotted MouseEye standing on it (but out of sight of the Count, of course) making "danger" motions: thumb drawn across the neck, glassy eyes with tongue lolling, arms crossed in front of his chest making a big X. I walked up to the table, took the book (somehow MouseEye disappeared. Maybe as I blinked?), pretended to read it, then said, "I think you meant to get it from the library but you grabbed the wrong one. Let me get the right one for you."

As I stepped out of the room, I heard Richard start talking to himself about finding another something or other. Igor was waiting.

"Do you thee what I mean? He'th not right in the head."

"Can I use your lab? I'm sure it's Loss of Experience, but I don't know how he would've contracted it. Unless... where did this book come from?"

"That? Oh... I'm not thure. Which ith odd. An adventurer did vithit a couple of dayth ago. I wath buthy in the lab, and I don't pry into the Marthter'th buthineth, but I do catalogue all the bookth. Thith one I've never theen. I wonder if the Marthter bought it. It theemth odd that he would, but then again..."

"I wonder if it's a trapped book. Like maybe you start to read it and instead of giving you information, it takes it. Does that sound plausible?"

"That'th... you know, people think of necromantherth ath evil becauthe they work with the dead and death. But thith... to turn a book from a giver to a taker... that'th real evil."

Igor took the book. "I'll examine it while you brew."

I just looked at him. "You can be so certain, and safe, while doing it so fast?"

He looked back at me. "You can brew a pothun tho fatht and be thertain you and he will be thafe?"

"Point taken."

He laughed. "Anyway, forewarned ith forearmed."

A few minutes later we reconvened. We both said, "Is it...?", then stopped. I let Igor go first.

"Trapped, as you thuthpected. The book itthelf ith inert. You had to thtart reading the text for the trap to thpring." He then looked at me more sharply. "How did you know?"

I was about to answer when I heard a mouse-y voice behind me. "I told her."

Igor shot me an appraising look. "That familiar ith a keeper if ever there wath one. Now - the pothun?"

I held up the cup holding it.

"Will thith... rethtore him?"

I didn't know. So that's what I answered.

"Here'th to hoping." He took the cup and entered the Count's study. "Reading ith thirthty work. Here'th a refrethment."

The Count, for his part, was standing in front of a tapestry. But he wasn't actively looking - the body was too slumped, the head not quite square. It was like no one was home. He clearly wasn't reading. He clearly wasn't doing much of anything. But he did take the drink without a word and downed it. And then we waited.

The changes were subtle but added up to awareness being reawakened. Then, slowly, he looked at us. Sometimes vampires are depicted with red flames in their eyes. Other times they're shown with wolfish grins and protruding canines. I'd never seen the Count like that. Until this moment.

"What?" The demand was directed at Igor.

"The new book, Marthter."

"Where?"

"Ditharmed. In the Library."

The vampire then turned to me.

"You?"

I was speechless. Frozen. The intensity of that gaze... it grabbed everything I was and blasted it aside. I just stood there, mute.

"Her. Yeth, Marthter."

Richard, Count von Rannoc, slowly approached me, never breaking eye contact. All I could see was his eyes, and beyond them, the Void. He reached down, took my hand, and kissed it. "You, witch, are worthy of the name. I'm indebted to you."

My brain slowly dragged its way back. "I... ah... just brewed a potion."

He continued to stare through me. "No. You returned me. Aside from your usual rate for the mundane task of brewing a potion, I am in your debt. The silver is a pittance. And you shall not refuse."

The more laggard pieces of my mind started to recover. "No."

The Count's eyes blazed again. Before he could speak, I continued. "I will accept that I've done you a greater service than simply treat a condition. And I accept that you feel indebted to me. But it's something I never intend to call. For me, there is no debt."

The stare, that terrible stare, continued. But now I was back, aware, fully myself. And I was able to absorb the stare and withstand it, hold it, and even calmly return it. And he laughed. "Never let it be said that witches are simply crazy women living in little cottages who mutter over steaming cauldrons." Then he held up a hand. "I, for one, have never said such a thing. Others? Yes. But not me."

Of a sudden, he looked drained. "Would you care to sit with me a moment? Apparently I need time to recover. Igor? Some tea please."

"Yeth, Marthter. With pleathure."

The Count and I sat. He more reclined. "Your predecessor. She warned me once about this, or something similar. 'They only have to get lucky once. You must remain perpetually vigilant.' Oh, the tongue lashing she'd've given me, were she here."

He looked deep in thought, formulating what to say next. "She was something, you know. A force of nature. She, a witch, working with all things from birth to death. And me, a necromancer, working with death as birth." He paused. Then, "They say opposites attract. But there was no way it would ever work. And then she went to the Imperial City."

That stopped me. I didn't think he knew about that, that Igor had intercepted her letter to him. He saw my facial expression and laughed. "Igor's protective. But that doesn't mean I'm ignorant."

"Your tea, Marthter. Mithtreth."

"Thank you, Igor.", said the Count.

"Should I track down the culprit, Marthter?"

"No. No doubt the poor fool was duped or geased. The real perpetrator will have clean hands. So we'll have to be more circumspect in our search."

"Yeth, Marthter."

Igor left and the Count and I talked for a while longer. At some point, I yawned. The Count reacted. "Dear me! I just realized what time it is! You must be exhausted! Shall I have Igor prepare a guest room for you?"

It was tempting, but really all I wanted was the peace of my own cottage and the safety of the land surrounding me. So I declined. And soon after, headed out.

On the way out, two things happened.

One was that I passed by the Silverleaf outcropping and gathered some. And then, remembering this unlucky fellow who'd bled to death trying to harvest it. I gathered some Old Blood from near him. Show me a witch who doesn't harvest reagents when they have the chance and I'll show you, not a witch, but a crazy woman living in a cottage muttering over a steaming cauldron. Ha! I still can't believe he said that!

The other thing that happened is that while I was walking passed the jail cells and paying them no mind, I heard a poorly stifled sneeze. It... no... it couldn't be...

I stopped and looked. And then I saw. A figure huddled in a cell, trying to hide. "Show yourself.", I said. I was calm. I was cool. I was collected. And I had a very interested vampire relatively close at hand if things went really badly.

"Um... hello?", it said. He, I amended. He said.

"Let me guess. You gave a necromancer a book, probably not willingly, and you are now stuck here, scared, and not knowing the way out."

"I did what?" The panic in his voice spoke volumes. He didn't know what he'd done. "Please, miss, I woke up here. I don't know where here is, but it isn't where I want to be!"

"I won't hurt you. You're safe. Come on out and I'll show you how to get out." It took more convincing than that, but he did eventually join me. I knew the way pretty well by this point, so it was a quick and easy journey to the exit. The feel of the nighttime air felt so much better than the dungeon's stagnancy. 

"Oh thank the heavens! I'm out! Here, miss, this is yours!", he shouted as he dropped a pouch at my feet, and ran off. I picked it up, felt the weight, and heard the clink of coins. I'd count it later. My main thought in that moment was the hope that he'd find his home ok.

As for me, I went home. But instead of going to bed, I sat outside and waited. It didn't feel like a long time but it gave me time to decompress, to process, to wonder, and to eventually watch the sunrise.

Spring, Week 5 - An Involuntary Foraging Trip

To hear the narration (and learn how I put the episode together), click below:

*****

 I can feel the season coming into its own. That first fresh breeze promising warmer weather and the heat of summer is long past. The feeling of Nature waking up is something I treasure. Funny how things can change so quickly - a change in residence, a definite increase in responsibilities, learning so much in such a short period of time. And yet there's other things that take their time - a change in season, the growth of a tree, even the movement of clouds - and just how easy it is to miss.

I feel like becoming a witch has made me even more aware of all these things, all these changes, fast and slow. And the really funny part is that the best way to notice these changes is to be still. While I can easily keep myself busy doing, I find I prefer not doing. It's been a bit of an exercise keeping my doing and not doing balanced, because both are needed. I find I do because not doing ends. And when my doing is done, I'm back to not doing.

It's a bit weird and I don't know if I'm making sense to anyone (other than to myself, of course. I think!) but it feels good to just sit and observe. My mind does wander while I'm sitting - whether in the cottage by the spirit house or outside in the increasingly warm and green spaces - but that's ok too. It floats along and wanders into all sorts of mental crevices, nooks, even the occasional rabbit hole, but eventually comes back and quiets a bit before dashing off again. Watching my mind meander around is like watching a restless child. It's ok, so long as it's home for meals!

It's been a busy couple of weeks. I've done my best to rest and recuperate, to keep myself happy and healthy, while also being at my best when the need arises. I've enough silver to make a new purchase - I'm sure Bob will be happy to see me and a full purse! Just kidding! Bob is a wonderful person and a smart shopkeeper. I hope to be viewed the same way someday.

Anyway - that will be something to do later this week. Or not. We'll see! For now, I'll sit and breathe. 

*****

At some point, something that I started feeling, grew in my awareness. Something not exactly wrong, but also not quite right.

"MouseEye?"

"Do you feel something too?"

There's nothing so affirming as someone else mentioning feeling something strange without prompting.

"Yeah. And idea what it is?"

"Mmm mmm."

"Do you want to scout around a bit? See if something's amiss?"

As an answer, he closed his eyes. Maybe he didn't say "Must I?" with words, but he yelled it with actions. So I shrugged and decided to walk around.

The sky was clear, the sun shining, nothing out of the ordinary. Except for two things: the bees were less active and sticking closer to the hive, and things felt a little gloomier than they should've. 

It was all subtle and easy to miss, but taken together, something was up. I decided to stay close to the cottage. Which wasn't the idea I'd had for... not today, but maybe tomorrow. I'd taken two weeks to clean up and rest up after difficult cases, which meant I'd spent less time than maybe I should've looking for reagents. And I had wanted to spend some time in Glimmerwood Grove. I guess that would have to wait.

Time passed. The gloom, if anything, deepened. I did my best to sit and be patient. Me pacing the cottage would do me no favours.

The day progressed and still... nothing. The sun set and still... nothing. The sun set? It... no... *sigh*... if a certain necromancer is coming to visit, at least we'll have that out of the way.

"MouseEye? You don't think it's the necromancer, do you?"

He stirred. "If it is, at least we're here. The cottage is safe."

Oh good. I'd've preferred something like, "No - it's not an immortal, blood-sucking, death-magic using creature whose only weaknesses are sunlight, wooden stakes to the heart, and raw garlic.

So we wait. And wait. And...

A knock. On the door.

"Mithtreth? Are you at home?"

Gulp.

MouseEye quickly ran behind the spirit house.

Great.

I called out in response - mostly to delay actually opening the door. "Igor? Is that you?"

"Yeth, mithtreth. The marthter hath need of your thervitheth."

A vampire needs a witch? Well... why not. As I reached for the door, MouseEye jumped on my shoulder, which caused me to jump out of my skin. As I recovered my composure, MouseEye said, "It's safe." Good. Although scaring the stuffing our of me... we could have skipped that bit!

I opened the door. Igor was standing, all three hands gathered together respectfully in front of him, his perpetual smile warm and reassuring. "Mithtreth, pleathe allow me to introduthe my Marthter, Count von Rannoc."

A figure standing behind Igor began to move forward. I expected black and red velvet, a cape, a large necklace depicting a wolf or a bat, all on a towering figure with a smile featuring prominent canines. What emerged was... less. He was pale - that fit the usual depictions. But he was short and stout, wearing a shirt and pants that you might see a labourer wear. There was nothing regal or scary here. Or at least in view. MouseEye's trembling kept me alert.

The Count walked up to me, took my hand, and kissed the back of it. "Count von Rannoc. Pleased to make your acquaintance. And please call me Richard. One's name disappears when buried by titles and honours. Tell me, what may I call you?"

I could feel a gentle push to give him my real name, that here was a friend who would safeguard secrets as if they were his own. So I took a second to shrug that off. "Sweet. Please call me Sweet."

He smiled. It was, for the most part, accepting. But for the remaining part, and echoed by his eyes, not happy that I'd given the answer I had.

I recovered my senses some more. "To what do I owe the visit, Richard?"

He recovered quickly too. "Would you mind if we sit down before I regale you with my tale of misfortune?"

I was getting comfortable with the situation. And that meant I didn't mind taking a minute to ask the cottage before answering. Count Richard might take offence but I was caring less and less. I focused on the cottage and mentally asked for permission. It was granted. So I let the vampire and his assistant in. The Count flashed a quick satisfied grin.

"Isn't it funny - sunlight is unhealthy for me but I can enjoy a lovely fire. Thank you for allowing me in." The Count was once again being charming. But I wasn't fooled. Something was going on.

"Please take a seat. May I offer you some tea?"

"Tea? Delighted."

"And for you, Igor?"

"Yeth, pleathe."

With the social niceties out of the way, it was time to find out what was going on. "You mentioned a tale of misfortune, Richard?"

He sipped and savoured before responding. "Wonderful cup of tea. Thank you. So yes - why I'm here. As you probably know, being a witch, that I am... differently alive than others. In addition, my interest in exploring the boundary between this world and the one where the deceased travel to requires the use of silver. Did you know of its qualities of calling forth the energies of the moon? Yes? Yes - of course you do. Well - what no one mentions in any of the tomes I have - have you been in my library? You've seen my collection of books - that silver can irritate, not just skin, but the entire body and, what's more, the esoteric body. So I have a need for a cure. And that brings me to you."

On the surface, it sounded good. Sincere. Someone needing help. But couldn't that help come from, oh I don't know, the Igor with the fully stocked laboratory? So I called him on it.

"It'th unfortunate, but my thkillth are thentered around necromatic artth, not allergieth." With a slight, perhaps even disapproving, glance at the Count.

"Igor", the Count replied, "We've discussed this. This is not an allergy. It is a chronic condition from over-exposure. As you well know from the summoning of Askew." Then he glanced at me. "Ah, sorry - you wouldn't know. Askew is a minor demon. I consulted it in regards to my affliction and it assured me you could effect a cure."

Right. "Please enjoy some more tea. I'll be just a second." I got up and began consulting the old witch's book. As I came up with a plan, I heard the Count remark on my spirit house. "It's lovely how you honour... your ancestors? the grounds? What does this symbolize?"

Without thinking, I replied, "The cottage and grounds."

"Is that so?"

I cringed. I'm not sure what he's hunting for, but apparently he just found something helpful.

I turned my mind back to the condition at hand. Silver Burn. Definitely a thing. And not an easy nut to crack. Thankfully I already had one reagent, Ghost Goo. For the other, I had a few choices... I think I muttered Glimmerwood Grove as I read.

"Will your hunt for reagents take you  to the Grove?" I heard the Count ask.

I just nodded.

He paused for a minute. "Lovely place. Full of reagents."

I nodded again.

"And I'm in no hurry for a cure."

Did he know I had been thinking of going there? Was that demon the one who told him? "I had been thinking about a reagent gathering... expedition is far too grand a word. But..."

"Wonderful! That sounds productive. And relaxing. I heartily endorse it!"

"Yes, but..."

"And I insist you take Igor with you. He'll cook and clean for you - whatever you want. Isn't that right, Igor?"

Was there a pause? "Yeth, Marthter. Of courthe, Marthter."

The Count smiled. "Wonderful! It's all decided. And of course you don't want to wait, do you, Sweet?"

I just nodded again.

"Right. Gather your things and off you go."

And I did and I did. It was only after I was halfway there that I realized I hadn't actually wanted to leave at all. I was so frustrated, angry, disgusted in myself, just... I wanted to scream. But I also wanted to talk to MouseEye, but with Igor around, I knew MouseEye wouldn't appear. So I stopped to go to the bathroom, asked Igor to keep going, and said I'd catch up in a minute.

I squatted down in a place so I could make sure Igor kept on walking. After I made sure he wasn't around, I whispered, "MouseEye?"

"Clever using the 'I need to pee trick'."

"Thanks. It helps to know I've got my brain back. I felt like I was pushed out the door."

"Um... you were. But not by the vampire. I think the cottage got you out of there."

That stopped me. "Seriously?"

"He wanted in and the cottage let it happen. I think whatever happens there, it'll be safer for you out here. Focus on the potion - he wasn't making that up. And when you feel ready, then we'll head back. Hopefully, things will be resolved. And in our favour."

Note to self - all this hoping that things will work out is for the birds. Or the snails. For something and/or someone who's not me. I'd prefer certainty, especially here and now!

Anyway, I finished my fake pee stop and caught up to Igor. He didn't look happy. So I asked if there was anything the matter.

"Kind of you to athk. I... I don't with to thay anything againtht the marthter, but hith conduct lately hath been in violation of the Igor Code. And thith excurthion, begging your forgiveneth, ith right up there. I'm thuppothed to care for mathter'th needth, not thimply to enthure you..."

"That I what, Igor? Come to harm?"

"Oh! No, mithtreth! No harm ith to come to you."

"Then why are you here?"

"Loothe lipth think thipth. I've already thaid too much."

"He wanted into the cottage. He's looking for something."

"The entity that ith the cottage and groundth. He became aware of it with the latht witch."

"And so...?"

"Tho what? You'll cure him of hith allergy. Huh! Allergy! What thelf-rethpecting necromancer hath a thilver allergy? Thameful."

"I will?"

"Yeth, mithtreth, you will. Not becauthe of any threat, but becauthe, in your heart of heartth, you heal. It'th what you want to do. And I'm here to help you do it. Jutht... maybe take longer than thtrickly nethethary."

"And yet you don't want to help me. You want to help the Count."

"That, mithtreth, ith my burden to bear. For now."

And that was that. Whether I liked it or not, I had Igor helping me find reagents in the forest while a vampiric necromancer attacked my cottage. And my cottage, by the way, wanted me out of the way. I had no idea how I was supposed to feel about all of this. So I decided to get to work gathering so that when I felt the time was right, I'd be able to go home right away.

"Okay, Igor. I can't say I understand any of what's going on, but you are right that I'm not interested in whatever magical battle of wits is happening. So I'll focus on what I can do, which is focus on making potions and all that involves, and let everything play out as it will. I'm going to trust that everything works out ok. So let's get to the Grove and set up camp. It's getting late and I'd really like to hit the ground running tomorrow. How's that sound?"

"Like a well thought-out plan, mithtreth."

*****

That plan worked well for us. Although there was also a fair bit of luck involved. You see, we finished making our way to the Grove, the trees all rising high over our heads, branches outstretched, nighttime animals making their nighttime noises (funny how scary they can be heading to the Hollow and yet so soothing in the Grove). We found a clearing and set up camp by a couple of big rocks that were the start of a couple of low ridges, forming a bit of a valley. It was tight, that valley, so we set up at the mouth of it. It also allowed for some fresher air. Inside the valley, the air didn't move much and had an unpleasant earthy smell. And that's where we spent the first night.

When we awoke the next morning, we decided to move camp. Quietly. Because the "rocks" we camped next to weren't rocks. They were feet. Giant's feet. I don't know how we avoided being trampled or otherwise rolled on. Thankfully the giant is a heavy sleeper. 

Once we had the new camp set up, I went back and carefully picked Foot Fungus - a powerful reagent. I tried to not sneeze and was almost successful. But the giant slept through it all.

I do not look forward to contending with an awake giant. Fingers crossed I never do.

Over the course of a couple of days, we gathered pretty much everything I wanted to bring back.

We put our new camp near a copse of Nurse Willows, where I harvested Surgeon Sap. Apart from being a convenient camp for ourselves, we also got to watch as a couple of animals, wounded from, I suppose, territorial fights, battles with predators, and who knows what else, came to lick the trees and effect their own healing.

One of these animals was a boar. It was in really bad shape, not even being able to reach a tree - it just laid down a few metres away, looked piteously at them, and whimpered. I was able to gather a bit of additional sap and cautiously fed it. As it lay there waiting for the sap to work its magic, I gave it some pets and was rewarded with some of its hair. Hair of the Boar was another reagent I'd hoped to gather.

Near a quick-flowing creek, as we gathered water, there was some splashing as something tried to avoid us. At first I thought it was a fish. Turns out it was Scramble Bramble. If it hadn't been for its trying to get away, I never would've known it was there. I managed to catch a bit.

On a prior trip here, I'd encountered some pixies near some Songberry bushes. I headed that way again. The pixies were once again gathered there. It was a bit awkward, with plenty of not-very-quiet mutterings about how I'd cheated at Caber Toss. I tried to put on a friendly face. I guess it worked because I was able to talk to a pixie who was, on the face of it, personable. Or should that be pixieable? How about we go with civil.

With her help, we gathered Songberries (they're just so good for mood). And she directed me to Shieldcap - several pixies were trying on different mushroom caps for fit and comfort. And colour - getting the right shade was a big part of the discussions there.

I was about to head back to the pixie gathering when I heard the strangest rhythm: tap, tap, shuffle, tap, tap, pounce, croak. Peering around a few trees, I saw these weird pink toads, gathered in small groups, dancing. It was funny to watch, that they did it with such solemnity, I had to guess it was some sort of... I don't know... courtship dance maybe? Like trying to impress the other toads with their... big jumps maybe? Dancing skills? Ability to get down and boogie? But a serious boogie. Anyway, I watched for a good long while. At some point it finished and I was able to collect mucous off overhanging leaves and (and I can't believe I'm writing this) their poop. Just call me the Princess Toad Latrine Girl.

I did eventually return to the pixies. I noticed everyone was drinking something warm and rich-smelling. When I asked what it was, I was told it was Coffee Cap, that it grew over that-a-way and that I could go get some now since it was time for me to leave. Although I'd hoped to get some more Rat Spit before heading off, I suppose I should be happy that they merely told me to leave rather than curse me. So... Coffee Cap - yes! Rat Spit - no!

Like I said, it'd been a couple of days. They were good, productive days. Igor kept the camp running well, and in fact is quite the chef. I don't think I've eaten as well, out here in the forest, as I have in my time in the cottage. "Ah well, you know", he said when I complemented his culinary skills, "it'th alwayth thatithfying to cook for more than jutht yourthelf. The marthter, you know, doethn't eat anything. He provideth for hith own nourithment. Tho I'm having fun cooking for thuch an apprethiative mithtress."

At some point, after another filling meal, I found myself asking about the old witch's interest with the Count. "It wathn't thomething I wath privy to. It ith a bit... odd... to theek out the company of a vampire, or a necromanther, or both, but thee did. The marthter, I think he enjoyed the company. The dead, near-dead, theudo-dead, thorta-dead... did you know necromanthers have fifty words for dead and death?... anyway, they aren't much for converthation. And it'th above my thtathion to thpeak to the marthter. Tho I think he got lonely on occathion. He may even have lotht a bit of hith pathion for the work. Thuth my fear he'd abandon it and leave with her. Tho along with hiding her letter to him, I kept giving her a Travel Guide to the The Imperial Thity. I hope thee's enjoying it there."

Well... that explains a lot.

I was going to ask more about that when I got a feeling. A request to return. And not to wait. I took a minute to pretend to relieve myself so that I could ask MouseEye if he'd felt anything. He had.

I strode confidently to Igor and let him know that I felt it was time to head home. He took one look at me, said, "Yeth, Mithtrith", and we quickly packed up and started back.

Just like our walk out, it was dark heading back. I was certainly walking faster heading back home, or what I hope was still my home, partly out of a desire to be in the cottage again and partly out of trepidation of what I'd find.

The cottage was quiet and still as we approached. Light did glow out from the windows and smoke and the occasional ember rose out of the chimney. Nothing out of the ordinary. 

I opened the door and found everything as I'd left it. Nothing broken, no mess, no disorder. Sitting at my table was the vampire, Richard, looking at me. Not violent. Not angry. No animosity showing. Just... abashed, I think. Bemused. Even sheepish. "Good evening, Mistress Sweetwater. I owe you an apology and an explanation.

"First, the explanation. When I became aware of the spirit that resides here, and I believe you've begun calling it also "not here", I felt I had to explore the phenomenon. What I didn't realize was the extent of that energy, nor of its desire for its privacy and ability to defend itself from unwanted intrusion. I've already tendered my apologies to the entity, and now I do so to you. Frankly, I had thought you, an unassuming girl, wouldn't be aware of the energies and that I could take advantage of that. I was wrong. I'm truly sorry to have disturbed you and this place."

"And why are you telling me this?"

"Because that was part of the agreement I made to cease hostilities. To be blunt, in the battle of wills between myself and the entity, I was suddenly beset by the most noxious, odious, little creatures I've ever encountered. Vicious little things."

"They're probably the result of poisoning the doctor."

"Really? Comeuppance too, in the mix. Fitting, I suppose."

I just stood there, watching, listening, processing.

"However, I would be most obliged if you could prepare that cure for Silver Burn. I have money."

I glanced at the spirit house. MouseEye peered out from it, all smiles. He gave me a sign that it was ok to brew it up. It meant having Richard in my house for longer than I wanted, but I did quickly brew it.

He applied it to his hands, then drank the rest. A look of relief crossed his face. "Thank you. Here's your fee. And please know I meant you no harm." And with that, he headed for the door. Before he left, he looked over his shoulder. "I cleaned up as best as I could. Would you like Igor to give it a once-over? The mess those little creatures can spread is... nauseatingly impressive. Please excuse any mess I missed. Now, allow me to bid you adieu."

I sat down in my chair and looked up at the spirit house again. "Will you tell me what happened?" The feeling I got back was one of comfort, security, warmth. The feelings a child might get from a parent who won't share the events of the day but gives reassurance instead.

I sat and watched the fire slowly die down to embers, then out, leaving me in the comforting dark of the cottage.

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.