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

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

*****

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

We were all standing there. Quiet. Confused. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

Bess and I looked at each other.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I don't know. Why?"

"That island over there is getting awfully close."

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

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

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

"Um... Sweet?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"There's a Bard Academy?"

"Proud graduate."

"And they teach Prehistory?"

"Um... no."

"Oh."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Is there a bouncy castle in this thing?"

"What's a bouncy castle?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

"No. But I got the idea."

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

"Consider what?"

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

I shrugged. "Ok."

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

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

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

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

"No. The Cloud Isles."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Yeah. That."

"What is it?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I do indeed.

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

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

"What peoples use that name for you?"

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

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

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

"Ah... yes. Nut."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Thank you. May I try it?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Absolutely."

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

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

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

"And... join me?"

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

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

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

Spring, Week 9 - The Elf and the Sphinx

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

*****

 I don't normally leave an entry on a cliffhanger but I did in my last one. And at the time I did wonder what the night would bring! It had already been a day full of learning new things, seeing new places, being chased by an entirely new (to me, anyway) creature... so no wonder if I wondered what else would happen or be revealed! And to be fair, a couple of things were revealed after that last entry (and something that had happened that I didn't squeeze into my journal last time).

MouseEye told me about the nature of flying brooms, especially the old ones. The newer ones are made for anyone to fly - they're quite generic. But the old ones - they were built in a way that, if you didn't resonate with it, it'd present as a perfectly ordinary broom, or at least as a "nothing-particularly-special" flying broom. How awesome it is that this old broom, Vapour Trail, did resonate with me.

Speaking of the broom, and Pop... throughout the night, Pop (the one attached to Vapour Trail) continued to divide and flow and morph. It was like watching festive lights multiply and grow all over a tree! The handle now glows, very gently, with all of its twisted, knotted, mottled glory. The entirety of her bristles now also glow amber and there are definitely far more "light bristles" than there were original ones. The overall result is just... completely magical! I have to share with Pip - maybe this is a way to keep Pop O'Locks safe in whatever dimensions they exist!

However, reality also came knocking and reminded me that, while flying fast and high in the open sun can be fun, it's also a source of skin burn. Sun burn, wind burn... oof, my skin wasn't happy! It took a couple of days for a lovely brown tan to develop. The colour is reminiscent of smooth tree bark!

During the couple of days that I took it easy, waiting for my skin to recover, MouseEye gave me a note from Pip! I grinned when I saw it, then grimaced when my cheeks pushed their burned selves up, then groaned when the grimace creased those same burnt areas!

Note to Self - I need a salve for this!

But back to the note. I read it and... I learned something new.

My dearest bestest friend Sweet

Your world sounds like a scary place. I can't imagine living through all of the adventures you've shared with me. You are so brave. Sweet the Brave!!!

My life is much quieter than yours, thankfully, but your life sounds more like an adventure book! Mine would be more of a "how to avoid..." I'm more of a hide and run than hide and seek person. :)

I'm happy to hear Pop is doing so well. She is extinct in most dimensions (of the here not here). I'm hoping ours survive - thrive and breed!

How did you learn to write poetry? I love reading yours. 

MouseEye has been visiting often - she does love chocolate chunky chip cookies especially fresh from my oven. LOL. I'm sending some for you too. (If none arrive, you know who swiped them) LOL. 

Love Your best bestie

Pip

 Pip called me adventurous! Me! I had to laugh. No, Pip, I'm not adventurous, but they do seem to find me regardless! And she said she likes my poetry! Well... I'll have to write one. I just need to think what about. Or maybe I can write one about how MouseEye seems to have developed a keen interest in chocolate chunky chip cookies! Apparently Pip sent them with this letter but they didn't arrive. Or... they did but I just never got them!

When I read the bit about the cookies, I looked over the letter at where MouseEye was sitting, looking all cute and innocent. But I think he felt my glare because he opened his eyes, gave a weak smile, belched a chocolate-laden burp, patted his tummy, then closed his eyes again. Little scamp! Cookie thief!

Ah - to heck with it - I can't stay mad at him for long. But I did say I'd appreciate at least one cookie next time. He made a sound back that could have been agreement, or a light snore, or perhaps even something less polite. 

I do remember seeing him eating a cookie in Pip's pocket while I dreamed that night after being under the effects of the mushroom spores. I wonder just how much of that experience was real? I'm guessing more of it than I'd guessed.

Anyway, I was finally feeling good again after recovering from my burn, ready to take on the day, whatever it might bring, embrace the fullness of...

"Somebody's coming down the path."

... the... fullness of... *sigh* ... time to breathe, time to relax, time to trust in myself, whatever may happen, embrace the fullness of the spirit of the cottage and grounds and...

*Knock knock* "Hello? Mistress Sweetwater?"

I opened my eyes when I recognized the voice. Cornelius McTwitter, the physician of High Rannoc, here.

"Mistress?"

But there was something wrong with his voice. It was like he was talking around something. I opened the door as he was starting to turn away. "Ah! Good! Mistress. I'm so glad you're in."

"Doctor", I responded politely. -ish. I mean... he wants to kick me out of my cottage and turn the grounds into some sort of "health resort", whatever that is. 

"I... ah... can I come in?" And then he smiled, revealing a broken tooth. I stepped out of the way and indicated a seat.

"How did your tooth end up broken?"

He gave a wan smile. "It's... there's quite the thing happening in town. Have you heard?"

"Are you referring to the supposed relationship between myself and the mayor?"

"Not exactly that, but that is part of it. High Rannoc is abuzz about the rumoured affair, some defending you, some attacking, and many just listening raptly, soaking up the, and pardon me for saying, entertainment value. Bob was targeted by some people for having sold you that magnificent broom you flew out on the other day. Anyway, things were getting pretty animated, people began grabbing and swinging heavy things, and my tooth and I met one of those heavy things on a backswing. I dosed myself with pain killers and am now here, hoping you can set my tooth aright."

I took a look in the book and there was a recipe for Shattered Tooth. And I had everything in house. I did consider, briefly, going out to collect reagents and letting the doctor sit and stew, but instead I decided to make a potion now. And to ask a few questions while I worked.

"The mayor did mention to me that you are interested in taking the cottage and converting it into some sort of health spot." It was a statement on the surface but a question at its heart.

"When I first was here and you treated me, I must admit that my mind couldn't accept that you'd cured me. And so efficiently and effectively. I blame that on my bias against nature-based medicines, which I was taught in my medical school in Imperial City. "Treat the humours, not the body!" was an oft-repeated asservation."

"A what?"

"A... it was something the instructors would say but never provide evidence that it was correct. We all learned it as more an article of faith than of science."

"And then you came here, and..."

"And you showed me just what a fool I was! You brew a potion and almost instantly the patient is cured. I am aware you helped young Robert, our town's adventurer."

I'd had the Rat Spit on a low boil and added it to the Vampire Venom and Slimeshell (both raw) and now let it sit and cool. "So you don't want to take over here?"

"Goodness, no! I say you should provide your kind of care here in your cottage and I'll provide mine safely behind city walls."

"So why did the mayor say he wants me out and you in here?"

The doctor shook his head. "I don't know. But I'm not interested in displacing you."

I handed over the cup. "You'll want to kick this back in one go. Swirl it in your mouth before you swallow."

He accepted gratefully and did as I asked.

"Look, you are part of the medical... team, if I may be so bold to say. You provide your services and I provide mine and that way High Rannoc citizens can be as healthy as they can be." And then he added, "Oooh... it tingles."

As he opened his mouth, I could see the tooth regenerating. It's one thing to get rid of someone's bad breath with a potion, but it's something else entirely to see a tooth growing. Literally growing.

"I have to ask - are you still trying to get an animated skeleton?"

He grimaced at that one. "No - I've learned my lesson. I have an ordinary skeleton and I point to where I need to direct attention. I figured if you don't need one, neither do I!"

"It should be another few minutes. Try to not rub your tongue over the tooth."

"This is extraordinary. Had someone come to me with a broken tooth, I'd've been pulling it out and perhaps replacing it with some sort of bone. Elephant, perhaps."

I decided to ask one last question before the tooth was fully healed. "Any idea who's helping the rumour along? Is the mayor saying drunken things again?"

Cornelius looked serious this time. "That's... quite a thought... I hadn't considered that there'd be someone adding fuel to the flame, so to speak. I mean, you know the nature of rumours and how they morph and change - enlarge, I suppose, you could say - and that's something I think everyone partakes in. But you're asking about someone being malicious about it. I don't think so. The mayor is saying nothing but looking rather smug, his wife is crying that another woman has led him astray, the teachers and staff are tittering at each other. I just don't know."

"What was that about the mayor's wife?"

"Oh, apparently the mayor's been accused of straying from the marital bed in the past."

"Ah." Something didn't feel right, but I wasn't sure what it was. So I decided to let the doctor know how much he owed (Forty silver! Because it was a harder potion) and move on with the day.

The thought of people getting violent, let alone spreading vicious rumours about me, was uncomfortable. I needed some time away again. Exercise in the bog had been one solution, retail therapy leading to a trip to The Cloud Isles had been another. Today, I wanted to walk among the trees in Glimmerwood Grove. We, MouseEye and I, could spend a day doing it, maybe gathering a thing or two, and maybe... hey! We can visit that elf that MouseEye had found the other day! Fun!

"MouseEye, what do you think about a day trip visit to the elf you visited the other day? Fun, right?"

He just froze and had this... look... that said so much and none of it good. I kept looking at him. He gave me a weak smile back. "Must we?"

"Just out of curiosity, what would cause any concern about visiting the elf? It sounded like he was eager for visitors."

MouseEye's face was frozen. Through closed lips I got a mumbled, noncommittal sound.  

Deep breaths, count to ten, tell myself that some day I'll find the funny in this situation, release. "How about this? If we go visit the elf, do you think we'll be welcomed?"

Another noncommittal sound.

"Ok, great. Well, I'm off. It'd be great if you came along to guide me to the elf, rather than have me wander around trying to find him, but if it's going to be, for whatever reason, impractical for you to accompany me, I fully and non-judgementally understand."

"I guess..."

"I mean, if whatever happened between you and the elf is going to be a hinderance to helping guide me there, then it's completely fine that you not come."

"Yes, I..."

"Because in your telling of the tale, and I am heavily referring to your use of both the words for the long appendage that is part of you and a synonym for a story, you were so amazingly clever that you won the elf's favour."

"Well... I did..."

"So off I go and I won't come home until I've met the elf for myself, if for no other reason than to get his side of the story."

MouseEye just closed his eyes, took a deep breath, then said, "I may have... ummm... overstated... ahhh... the elf's appreciation of my verbal trick."

I crossed my arms. "How overstated?"

"Ummm... he may refer to me as a cheat and a thief."

"So he wasn't amused when you..."

"Ahhh... no."

That cemented my determination. "Great! Then we'll head over there and make amends."

"Must...?"

The "I" petered off. I think MouseEye might have swallowed it.

"Yes. We must. If nothing else, I want to be a good neighbour."

*sigh* "Ok."

And that was that. Off we headed. MouseEye sat on my shoulder the entire way.

The trip was quiet, which suited me just fine. I rehearsed apologies, thought of ways to treat this ancient being that might be appropriate (having no idea of any customs that he might expect me to know, I wondered if I could fake it well enough), and tried to keep issues that might be brought up in mind so that I wouldn't be speechless at any point. It was a lot to think in a short time!

As we got closer to the location of the elf's court, we started to hear a voice, complaining, and apparently in some amount of pain. I sped up, wondering what in the world could be wrong.

The brambles that had obscured the entrance to the courtyard had been ploughed over by something. Certainly something big! And not at all concerned by the prickles of the bushes. I stepped through and a lot more made sense. In the middle of the courtyard laid a sphinx. And not just any sphinx - it was the one I'd encountered a few weeks back. He was bleeding from an open wound in his chest. Kneeling next to him was an elf, speaking softly, tending to him. He glanced up as MouseEye and I strode in, then stood up angrily. 

"I have no time to deal with you, thief. But you are not welcome here. And anyone who accompanies you is equally barred. Begone!"

I glanced at MouseEye sternly. He gave me a helpless shrug back.

"Sir, I'm aware my familiar gave offence earlier and I'm here hoping to heal the rift from that, but I see someone in need of aid. May I be of service?"

He looked at me in annoyance, waved us away, and went back to the sphinx.

Feeling bolder than I had any right to feel, I walked up to the two figures, laid my hand on the sphinx's shoulder, and vowed to return quickly with a healing potion. He thanked me, then said something about never going back, then went back to moaning in pain.

I mentally ran through options for a cure and hit on one - Surgeon Sap. We needed to find a particular tree - a Nurse Willow - and given how thirsty willows can be, I headed towards the boundary between the forest and the bog.

It took a couple of trees to find the right kind and one that had sap congealing on its bark. I gathered a blob then returned to the sphinx.

Re-entering the courtyard, I heard the sphinx breathing easier although the chest wound was still oozing. The elf was chanting something. He looked up and I held up the sap. He nodded for me to approach.

If I'd been at home, I would've heated the sap to allow a portion to be placed, like a poultice, over the wound. Instead, I just had the sphinx swallow the sap whole. It's a little bit sweet so I think that helped it go down.

The wound began to heal as we watched, first drying up, then starting to close. The elf stopped his chant (it was something to ease pain) and the sphinx soon became his healthy self once more.

"I believe I owe you all an explanation.", said the now standing sphinx. "I staggered here from my perch in search of help. You see, I'm a sphinx and by tradition we ask a riddle to anyone who approaches. And by tradition, you can pass if you get the riddle right and you are eaten if you get it wrong. Thanks, however, to the generous nature of the witch before me, I learned that other penalties can be applied, such as the teaching of a new riddle. Which I welcomed because, like I said before, I'm a vegetarian. Anyway, an adventurer approached earlier today. I posed, he answered incorrectly, but instead of teaching me a new riddle, he mocked me! As I began to scold him for his attitude, he stabbed me! He ran off and I made my way here. And thanks to you both, I'm right as rain.

"But I'm never going back to that pedestal. Instead of blocking people from travelling forwards, I'm going to... I'm not sure what."

The noble elf looked thoughtful. "You may reside here with me. I believe we can trade stories for riddles. What say you?"

"Does a bear poop in the woods?"

The elf paused. "And perhaps we can study various forms of riddles and thereby increase your repertoire." He then looked at me. "You, I believe, are Mistress Sweetwater. Your actions were honourable. You are welcome to return here whenever you wish. As for your familiar... I'll consider his debt to me settled once he has told me two stories, not "tales", over the next week."

MouseEye started. "I owed you one!"

The elf answered. "Interest and penalties."

MouseEye shrugged. "Ok. As for the first tale..."

"Let's do this properly. We should sit back, enjoy refreshments, and allow this story to be savoured properly."

I'll say this about what followed - it was an event! MouseEye took centre stage and not only told his stories but acted them out. He did the voices, he brought settings to life, he... let's just say he brought the house down. Twice. And as for the "refreshments" the elf provided... I figured we'd have something refreshing to drink or something like that, but what was served was beyond anything I'd ever had before. Maybe it's because I'd never had Elvish food and this bit of refreshment in the Elvish world was simply that, but I found it simply amazing.

Anyway, whatever bad blood that had existed before was now well and done. Elf and mouse complimented each other, I breathed a sigh of relief, the sphinx trundled off to his new lodgings, and I took that as a cue to excuse myself. All in all, a lovely day.

And it remained lovely despite the fact that somewhere in all this I decided Fen needed a friend. A Princess Toad, to be exact. Why I thought it was a good idea... I don't know! But I did and so off MouseEye and I went in search of one.

We did find Princess Toads. Eventually. There weren't many around and those we did find... well, you can't simply grab them! You have to ask if they'd like to leave their current situation and come join me in mine. To which they all replied, "No, thank you."

You can't argue with that!

We went home, tired but happy. It'd been a busy day. MouseEye settled under the spirit house and I... I was still mentally awake. So I decided to write a response to Pip.

I addressed it To Pip, Here Yet Not Here and sent it From Sweet, Here Yet Not Here

Dear Pip,

Thank you for your kind gift of your chocolate chunk cookies. I'd like to say they were delicious, that they paired nicely with the tea I was drinking. Perhaps MouseEye, when he next sees you, can tell you that they were. Since he's the only one who knows! (The little mischief maker didn't even leave a crumb for me!)

Your cookies may be delightful

And I may be more insightful

Were it not for a mouse

Who lives in my house

Who can apparently eat a plateful!

I think it's funny that you think I'm so adventurous! Not true! But they do have a way of finding me. So rather than me being adventurous, I'd say adventures are Sweet-er-ous!

Pop, by the way, has divided into two! And one of her is now part of the ancient broom I just bought! It's like a holiday-lit broom now!

Your best bestie, 

Sweet 

I figured I'd ask my little half-truth telling, cookie-addicted familiar to deliver it in the morning. But no sooner had I sealed up the letter, I heard a SNAP! That... I'd heard that sound before, during my dream. And the one who'd SNAPped me then had been a small owl...

"Name's Birdie. We needed to talk so here I am. Stay out of my world and I'll stay out of yours. Now give me that note.

"Good talk."

SNAP

And she was gone. What the...? That was... wow. Poor Pip!

I took a second (more like many minutes) to sit and breathe and find my centre again. Then for good measure I went and gave MouseEye a quick peck on the head, and then decided it was time to go to bed.

Spring, Week 8 - Meeting the Mayor

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

*****

 "Good morning. Sleep well?"

I have to admit that I love to linger in bed in the morning, to have daylight move from soft pink glow to bright white that pours in through the window. There's a warmth, a peace, a serenity that exits early in the day, the quality of which is unmatched at any other time. And stretched out in bed, relaxed, with all the cares of the world not knocking on my door or tapping me on the shoulder - it's heaven. So for my eyes to report a very bleary yet very alert familiar sitting on my chest, eyes bright and whiskers twitching away, wasn't welcome. But I wasn't awake enough to complain. Much.

"Whazzy?" I also managed to stretch and yawn in accompaniment to my brilliant question.

MouseEye stayed firmly fixed as I made motions to get up. "Have you checked in on Fen lately?"

I stopped stretching and was insta-awake. "What? Is he ok?"

"Mmm hmm. But you should check on him." There was still this energy, this eagerness, that MouseEye was annoyingly radiating. 

"Ok... so if it's not an emergency, I think I'll take my time, eat some breakfast, then walk over."

"Must you?"

I closed my eyes, took a breath, counted to ten, then tried again. "How about if I skip my pleasant, start-of-the-day activities and instead walk over to check on Fen."

"Great idea! I'll see you there!" And with that, he leapt off of me and landed... not in the cottage. *sigh* I don't know if I'll ever get used to his disappearing trick.

Since I was essentially being rushed out to check in on Fen in a non-emergency situation, I tossed on a nightshirt, slipped on some shoes, and headed for Fen's place.

Fen, the Fentoad who'd come home with me after a bog goblin attack, had settled in nicely next to the little stream where I gather water. A huge tree grows there, creating shade under its huge canopy. I can see myself spending a lot of time there during the heat of summer.

The net result was that I would collect water from there and would sometimes see Fen. I hadn't seen him for a couple of days, so my level of concern was high, despite MouseEye's assurance that nothing was amiss with him.

It's a relaxing short walk to the stream and tree - a couple of minutes most days. Today's trip was shorter because I was walking quickly. As I approached, I started calling Fen's name, hoping he'd hop out and let me know everything was ok.

I called.

Fen hopped out.

I smiled in relief.

Fen looked up into the tree.

I followed his gaze.

My jaw dropped.

MouseEye appeared in the tree with a big grin. Then disappeared again. But far from laughing with him, I was busy picking my jaw up off the ground.

You see... on a large bough, and leaning against the trunk, sat a man. An older man. A quite large older man. A half-naked (in only underthings), quite large, older man. Snoring.

A bewildering array of questions began to demand access to my now quite alert thinking apparatus. Who is he? Why is he here? Why are his shirt and trousers lying on the ground? And how did he get up there? I mean... it'd be hard for me to climb up there, so how...?

I approached. Slowly. Cautiously. "Hello? Sir? Hellooooo!" Then I stepped back a few paces.

I watched as he woke up. He somehow simultaneously nearly lost his balance, cradled his head, and made as if he was going to be sick. "Oooooh, my head.", he groaned. I called up again. "Hello, sir!"

"Please, not so loud. I'm... ooooohhhh..."

"Are you unwell?"

"It's only that I feel like death. And... where am I?"

I told him. He nodded, then leaned his head back against the tree again.

"Did you eat or drink something that didn't agree with you?"

"Eat? No. Drink? I don't think I had that much last night..."

Ok - make that a very hungover, half-naked, quite large, older man. "Sir? Let me see what I have in the cottage for hangovers. I'll be back in a minute."

He just groaned again.

As I made my way to the cottage, MouseEye reappeared on my shoulder, laughing. I don't understand why someone suffering from a hangover can be seen as so funny to some. So I asked him. He shrugged. "It's... well... it's funny."

"How are we going to get him down from there? Because him falling and possibly breaking a bone won't be funny at all."

MouseEye just laughed again. "We? I'm not sure how a mouse is supposed to be of help with this issue."

"I was hoping you'd have an idea for getting him down. I wasn't suggesting you sling him over your shoulder and bodily carry him down."

MouseEye shrugged. "He got up there. I'm sure he can get down. Just like a cat can, you know?"

As we'd been talking, I'd looked up hangovers in the old witch's book. Crow Coal - the first reagent I'd ever picked up, was perfect. I brewed up two cups of tea, added crushed Crow Coal into one, and headed back.

The man was still in the tree.

"Sir", I called up, "I've got a remedy for your hangover here. But you're going to have to get yourself down from there."

"I have no idea how I got up here, but I suppose if I managed it, I can get myself down. Stand clear." I watched as he manoeuvred himself one way, then the other, then stopped. "It might be easier if I had my clothes. The bark is sure to hurt otherwise."

I tossed up his clothes. They were relatively clean but did stink of smoke and drink. As he struggled to put them on, I asked, "Why did you take your clothes off last night?"

"I don't remember taking them off. But I can only guess I worked up a sweat getting up here. I'm glad to have them now - it's quite chilly." 

Whether the chill was from the coolness of the stream or another symptom of the hangover, I wasn't sure. But it was good to see that he managed to dress himself, more or less. That could only help to make him more comfortable and pad against injuries from his disembarking from the branch.

He took a minute to rest, then tried getting down again. It was awkward and probably not the way he got up there, but a bit of effort and a bunch of gravity did the trick. I should add that it was good he was wearing clothes - the scrapes he would've gotten, in rather delicate places, would've hurt something fierce.

After his pseudo-fall, he just lay there, groaning. While I felt for him, it was also difficult to feel too badly for him - he was the one who'd gotten drunk, wandered onto my property, climbed the tree, and spent the night there underdressed. So after waiting for what I thought was an adequate amount of time, I strode over and handed him his "enriched" tea.

He took a sip, made a face, then set it aside. "Gah! What's that taste? Don't you have any wine? Beer? Something that doesn't taste like ashes?"

Now... I knew I had honey at my disposal but I opted not to use it. Instead, I just told him that the only way the potion would work was if he downed it all in one go. He made a face at me, grimaced at the cup, clearly contemplated deliberately spilling it, then held his nose and downed it. I sipped my tea as the medicinal one worked its healing magic.

As I continued to sip, his groaning stopped and his body uncoiled, no longer trying to hold itself still. I still hadn't finished my cup by the time he was standing upright, looking far less gray, and not in imminent danger of vomiting. In fact, he looked at the stream almost eagerly. "Would you mind if I...?" He gestured towards the water.

I shrugged. "Come to the cottage when you're done. I'll have a warm towel ready so you can dry off."

As I carried the empty cups back home, I heard the telltale splashing of someone bathing. Knowing my latest patient was occupied, I looked for (and found) MouseEye, who jumped from a low-hanging branch onto my shoulder. "Do you know who that is?"

"Mmm hmm."

"Care to share?"

"Mmm... no."

"And may I know why you won't share?"

"Mmm... no."

Sometimes I wonder what life would've been like if our roles were reversed, with me as the familiar and MouseEye as the witch. Would I find as much pleasure in withholding information as a certain rodent finds it? But since something like that happening was about as likely as a tree growing upside down, I don't usually dwell on the thought. But today was an unusual day.

I got a towel heated, as promised, and then puttered about until my mystery patient arrived to warm up. It didn't take long for him to arrive - the stream runs cold. And eventually he was sitting in front of the fire, bundled, and finally in a condition where he was ready to talk.

I decided to start off. "I'm..."

"Mistress Sweetwater, the current witch and occupant of this witch's cottage. Although that wasn't the name you used when first you were enrolled in the Herbology School." He looked at me, watching to see how I'd react to his knowing all that about me. I managed to not react.

"You have the advantage of me. Please tell me who you are."

He sat up straighter, trying to look more impressive. "I'm the Lord Mayor of High Rannoc."

Now things were starting to strike me as funny. The Lord Mayor of High Rannoc was sitting in front of my fire, steam gently rising from his head, wrapped in a towel. I started giggling.

"What is so funny, young lady? I'm a highly respected figure in this community! Whereas you - I've heard a thing or two about you!"

That stopped the giggles and brought out the outrage. "What was funny was seeing you, the Lord Mayor, warming yourself in front of my fire after washing off the last of last night's excess. What is no longer funny is you threatening me in my home, particularly after brewing you a potion. So now, if the Lord Mayor would deign to pay the witch the twenty silver due, he may then leave."

He didn't seem to hear me. "Madam Wintergleam says you lack discipline and decorum, that you lack the character needed to be a witch..."

"How would she know what's needed? All those students are trapped inside the School's walls!"

"... to the degree that you assaulted a current student of the School, nearly piercing his... uhh... tender bit..."

"In self-defence after he assaulted me!"

"... and, from what I've seen, you lack the requisite requirements to inhabit this cottage..."

"So who's trying to toss me out?"

"... I think I'll grant the doctor his request to take over here and turn it into a health-retreat centre."

"The doctor. Of course."

Things got awfully quiet at that point. I was ready to do something... something... I had no idea what I was ready to do, but the one thing I wasn't going to do was back down. For his part, he... he wasn't angry. Or even emotional. He was just watching for me to do or say something stupid. Like cry. Or beg. Neither was going to happen,

"Ahem." We both turned towards the mantlepiece. MouseEye was standing on his hind feet. "I do believe, Oliver Chutney..."

"Lord Mayor of High Rannoc.", said the Lord Mayor of High Rannoc.

"... that you are currently sitting, cured of your hangover, inside a cottage that was deeded to itself. Meaning you have no authority to do anything to my Mistress, this residence, or these grounds. Further, while you can cherry pick opinions that aren't favourable to my Mistress, I think you'll find that the only opinion here concerning you is currently quite negative. And if it were revealed just how inebriated you were last night, how hungover you were this morning, and that you spat upon the current witch's hospitality, care, and cure, I think you'll lose what little respect people have for you. And trust me when I say I'll make sure that becomes the talk of the town."

It got quiet again. I tried my best to not tear up as MouseEye defended me. Instead, I just stood upright, haughty even, with a small grin on my face.

"I take it this is Mortimer? I believe there's more to the elaborate name that Madam Hightower's domestic..."

"Francie", I supplied.

"... couldn't quite remember."

MouseEye bowed.

Oliver looked back and forth at MouseEye and I. "You're quite the formidable pair. And yes, I've heard good things too. So how about this - we don't talk about my whereabouts or condition over the last twenty-four hours and I'll leave you in peace and allow you to do your work as you see fit."

I translated his offer in my head. He'll give me what I already have in exchange for maintaining patient confidentiality, which he already has? I shot a questioning look at MouseEye with a small shrug of acceptance. He did the same back.

"Accepted. But you will pay for that hangover cure before you leave."

He raised his hands in surrender, then one sought out his money pouch. As the coins were placed on the table, the Mayor said, "I'm glad High Rannoc has a strong and knowledgable witch. And, frankly, quite scary when riled. I trust you'll remember our agreement?"

I simply nodded.

He nodded back. "Good day to you. Mistress. Mortimer." And he left.

I waited impatiently for ten minutes to pass before the primal scream that'd been brewing was allowed out. While there were words of rage and frustration in there, mostly it was just white-hot pure emotion that poured forth. That felt good to just let it release! And after a wash in the cold stream and then a thaw in front of the fire, I felt... renewed. Still angry, but fresh and capable and strong. And then I found MouseEye, got him into the palm of my hand, and kissed his head.

He blushed, I think!

"So... ummm... what else shall we do today?", he asked.

I needed to work out my frustrations with more than just one good lungful of vocal release. I needed a walk - no - more than that. I needed full body exertion. I needed some time out in nature. And if it meant I could gather a reagent or two, I'd take that as part of the package deal.

I needed to spend some time with Miss Bogfire in Blastfire Bog. At the very least I could replenish my Crow Coal. 

Crow Coal. The first reagent I'd ever gathered had just been used. Gosh - that was a trigger to some self-reflection! The me of eight weeks ago had gathered something, having no clue that the me of today would use it as a hangover remedy. Funny how that worked out.

I rushed through the remaining bits of my morning routine so that I could be gone for as long as I could manage. Or at least for as long as I wanted. Who knows - the me of an hour from now might be very ready to come back to the cottage!

As we walked to Cunk's Landing - my name for the dock next to the industrious bog goblin who made, not just Miss Bogfire, but all of her watercraft siblings - I wondered how MouseEye had known so much about the legal status of the cottage and the current political climate for the mayor. I knew if I asked I'd be told that he watches. I guess what I really wanted to know is not so much what he watches but how he does. How can he know about things that he, presumably, wasn't here for.

What else has he watched? Or... correction to that last question... what else does he know? Does he know about my life prior to being a witch? Does he know about the old witch? Does he know Pip?

I suppose as time and tide dictate, I'll find out. Or not!

The walk to the Bog did me good. My head was clearer, my body warmed up and ready to go for a paddle, and my sense of adventure was prepped to head out and explore.

Cunk too was in a good mood when I arrived at the dock. "Ha! You here! Good day! Sun here! Fish jump! Good day!" Together we put my coracle in the water. As I paddled down a channel, Cunk waved before setting to work again.

Trusting that MouseEye could direct me home, I just went where my mood sent me - through wide open channels one minute, then down nearly choked off passages the next. It was maybe a couple of hours before I decided that I needed a bit of a break and headed for a piece of dry land dominated by a tall tree. The shade was super inviting! 

Pulling my boat up and securing it to the huge trunk ensured my boat - and my only way back home (absent a very mucky and long swim) was secure. I laid back, watched the clouds, and enjoyed the peace and quiet.

I breathed in the sun and breathed out anger. I breathed in serenity and breathed out disquiet. I breathed in light and breathed out grey smoke. Not literally, of course! In all of this, I may have dozed off. Probably dozed off. I... dozed off. MouseEye says I snored loud enough to prevent anyone else from catching a few zzz's. 

What finally brought me out of my revery was the cawing of crows who'd just flown onto a branch of the tree. When I looked up at them, I spotted the nest I'd missed seeing before now. This might be a chance to get some coal!

Unlike the last time when I'd been lucky enough to spy some on the ground, this time I was going to have to negotiate with these birds. The thing to know about crows is that they are some of the most obnoxious and rude birds around. The only reason harpies have the rotten reputation that they do is that they speak human. Crows don't bother speaking in any other language but their own and can still leave you feeling massively insulted.

I managed to climb up to a level where I could converse with the birds and did my best to ask for some of their crow coal. I offered to do a trade. I said I could recite poetry or sing a song. I...

They started cawing viciously. There was no physical threat, but did they let me have it verbally. I'd guarded against exactly this, but still, some words, some feelings, got through. Whoever it was that said that sticks and stones can break bones but words can't hurt you never met crows.

I did eventually get the coal because a crow, in frustration at my not leaving, flung it at me. Correction - towards me. If it'd been at me, it might've been ok. I could've caught it or somehow trapped it with my body. But the throw was only roughly in my direction. In my excitement of trying to catch it (which I did - yay me), I over-leaned and fell off the branch.

Luck was with me in that I fell onto a soft landing spot - a rotting soft log that kept me from landing heavily on the ground. The giant puff of mushroom spores that erupted out of the log was like a fog. And I breathed in a giant lungful.

Of a sudden, I was both myself and yet something more. I suppose I became a part of the mushroom network, seeing and feeling and knowing things about the Bog that I had no other way of knowing. I sensed individual plants growing, troops of ants bringing home food from distant lands along well-worn tracks, roots seeking water and nutrients and the pumping of vital fluids along stalks, branches, and trunks. I was a part of the Bog and it was a part of me. Harmonized being. Oneness. Totality. 

Somewhere in all that, I felt a gentle yet insistent tapping on my right cheek. "Sweet? We need to get moving. It's getting late."

I opened my eyes and met the concerned look of MouseEye. "Are you ok?"

I took a deep breath, then remembered what happened on my last deep breath. MouseEye seemed to know my concern. "It's safe. I think you've made sure that there won't be any new mushrooms anywhere near here. A kilometre or two away? Yes. But not here." He smiled as he said it. I believe it was a smile of relief.

Broken pictures of the vision I'd had kept forcing their way into my consciousness. I started to get up, perhaps too quickly. "Take your time. You're awake and that's good. But take a minute before we do anything else."

I forced myself to take that needed minute, but I wasn't happy doing it. I felt the need to move. I had to move. There were things I wanted to do, needed to do, before I lost all memory of what I'd seen.

Going to Miss Bogfire, I untied her, jumped in, and started to get ready to paddle. "I'd offer to get us home, but, you know..." MouseEye held up his little mouse arms and flexed his paws.

"It's ok. I know where I'm going." And we set off. Deeper into the bog.

"Ummm... home's that way." MouseEye pointed to a channel I wasn't going to go down.

"Yup. I know. But we're going this way." I paddled with what felt like the strength of ten strong men.

"Okay?" MouseEye started to nervously flit around on the boat, looking this way and that, clearly unsure of what I was up to. To be honest, I wasn't sure of what I was doing either. I just felt the need to paddle. The coracle seemed to know the way.

We headed deeper and deeper into the bog until we nearly reached a place where Bog and Glimmerwood Grove met. I hopped out, almost forgot to tie off the line, then sprinted towards a grove of oak trees.

MouseEye got there first. "Here's some Shieldcap. Although why we needed to come all the way here I'm sure I don't know." I ignored him and swept passed. I wouldn't talk. I knew what I was looking for was close. It took a few minutes of digging through undergrowth to pull out my prize: Amethyst Antlers. It was a huge rack. The ancient deer that dropped these must have been magnificent. 

MouseEye just gasped. "How did...? I mean... whaa...?"

I heard him stammer his questions but I couldn't answer. The feeling of another reagent somewhere else in the bog was calling to me; answering MouseEye's questions would've broken the spell. I just hauled the antlers into the coracle and made ready to paddle. What vision of the here and now I had showed me MouseEye still standing by the Shieldcaps, arms crossed, muttering to himself. I couldn't wait but didn't want to leave him behind so I jumped out, grabbed semi-blindly at both my confused familiar and the mushrooms (I somehow grabbed both), raced back to the boat, and we headed off again.

"Where are we headed now...?" Looking back, I've never heard MouseEye sound so uncertain. It would've been hysterical if I hadn't been so focused on the next destination. All I could manage was a quick shake of the head, asking that questions be held until the appropriate Q&A period. Which wasn't now.

I paddled, the coracle steered, the sun set.

I paddled, the coracle steered, the night deepened. 

I paddled, the coracle landed on a bit of land, the shadows cast by the rising moon shaped the darkness into fuzzy blobs of midnight outlined by silvery glints of dew covered foliage.

I stumbled out and pretty much beelined towards a large tree. I sloshed and splashed, heedless of what was in my way, whether plant, animal, or water channel (thankfully nothing too deep - although I did go waist-high on one step). While I didn't know what they were called then, I now know they were Gronblut Limpets. And within their thick shells (which were open to allow the moonlight in) sat Midnight Morsels. I scooped some out, stored them in my kit, and then felt the raging fire of need and motivation drain out of me. I was exhausted, trembling, absolutely knackered. 

MouseEye appeared on my shoulder and to his credit talked me back to Miss Bogfire (even leading me down a much better path that involved a lot less immersion!)

At the boat, I was a mess. I wanted to go home but didn't have the strength to even attempt it. MouseEye talked me though getting into the coracle and pushing off. I more or less collapsed into the bottom of the boat. "You sleep. We'll be fine. I'll keep watch.", I remember hearing him say. 

And then... I think I was dreaming. Or maybe it was more than a dream. It started with me in my cottage (it's still a bit strange to claim ownership of it), sitting in front of the fire with the spirit house sitting on the mantlepiece. And as I watched, the spirit house got closer and closer, bigger and bigger, until I was in it, through it... and looking out the other side. At the inside of a cottage that looked a bit like mine, but wasn't. And a girl, my age, maybe, but not me, talking to three ducks (named Mabel, Judy, and Julie). As I looked closer, I saw a familiar mousey-face peer our from a pocket in her clothes, holding a chocolate chip cookie. I gasped, which drew the attention of a small owl who, with a flick of her wing, I felt rather than heard a SNAP. My vision swam for a minute but then I saw yet another similar cottage and yet another witch and yet another setting. And then another. And then another. And another. They began to blur and speed past me, cottages and witches and familiars, all both somewhat familiar but also rather strange.

I awoke with a whimper. My body ached, my head felt woozy, and my nose began informing me that we were still deep in the bog.

"Welcome back." MouseEye's look of concern helped warm my heart. "I'm guessing those mushroom spores did a number on you."

I nodded, stretched, yawned. 

"Are you feeling ok?"

I nodded again, then mumbled, "Yeah", then, "I think I'm ready to get us home, if you're up to navigating."

"Ready, willing, and able, Captain."

And thus began the slow and careful trip home in the dark. As I paddled, I figured a bit of conversation would help the time pass. So I told MouseEye about what I'd felt and seen since being dosed with mushroom spores. MouseEye listened politely, asked questions here and there.

When I asked him about his eating what I presumed was one of Pip's chocolate chip cookies, he got a bit quiet. And when I asked him to share with his favourite witch the next time he went there (and certainly not expecting any sort of answer because it had been just a dream, right?) he actually blushed in embarrassment before giving me an abashed, "Must I?"

Also Spring, Week 7 - MouseEye's Adventure

To listen to the narration and hear how I put the episode together, click the video link below:

*****

 I have to admit, I'm not quite sure how to talk about what I just found out. I'm not quite sure who I can tell! I want to tell someone, but it's... have you ever had something that you wanted to say and that it makes perfect sense when you tell someone face-to-face but it just loses its punch when it's written down? Well, I have. I want to tell someone but there's no one here to tell (because I have, apparently, a very discriminating social presence. Meaning I'm pretty much left alone/avoided unless, of course, there's a potion involved).

Which is why I'm sitting here, at my small desk in the cottage, chewing on the end of my pencil, thinking about what to write in a letter to Pip. Of all the people I know, I think she's the only one who'll appreciate the story. But that brings me back to wanting to tell the story face-to-face, maybe in a bit of a gossip session. Not that anyone gossips anymore! Oh no. It's all Speaking Truth and Airing Things Out and Spilling Tea. But it's not gossip!

Ok - I think what I'll do is relate the story on some paper here and if I feel like it comes across ok there, I'll send it to Pip so she can be just as amazed as I am.

Now to compose my letter.

Dear Pip,

Hi! How are you? How's everything in your neck of the Here Yet Not Here?

You won't believe what happened! (Oh, sorry - I'm supposed to wait for you to answer the questions and I'm supposed to listen and nod and pretend I'm not about to burst to tell you what I want to tell you. So pretend I did!) But I think in order to really appreciate the story, you need a clearer picture of life here than what I've provided before.

I live in a small cottage with Pop (she's lightfull, by the way. And I do mean "light-full". She's like my own private floating light source, like a very small sun, but with an automatic dimmer. And no heat aside from her gentle warmth when she lands on me. Thank you for sending Pop O' Lock here - we're all happy) and MouseEye.

MouseEye... how to describe him? He's a mouse, for one. He's my familiar. And while he can often cop an attitude when asked to do something, he can also be helpful - and oftentimes in unexpected ways. For instance, so far I know he can speak to humans, bees, toads, and I'm pretty sure to Pop as well. 

One thing that he has a habit of doing is disappearing. Often at very inconvenient times, like when I'm in danger of being eaten by a sphinx. (Thankfully it was vegetarian, so the danger wasn't as grave as it could've been, but you get the idea). When he shows up after disappearing, I'll ask where he's been. And he'll usually say "Must I?". (I know I asked to call him MouseEye but I had no idea it'd be so close to what has become his trademark remark!)

Today he reappeared in his usual space in and amongst my spirit house (which is also where mail from you tends to arrive. Weird, yeah?). Despite the fact that I've stopped asking about his solo travels far and wide to who knows where, I decided to show an interest on where he'd been this time. And he told me!

That alone made my jaw drop. And maybe it's that fact alone that makes the story so amazing - the he actually shared what happened!

At least I hope it's a true account. It'd be a shame if he just made it all up. I mean... would he make up a story? No - I don't think so. If he didn't want to share, he wouldn't. He'd change the subject or ignore me or say "Must I?". I don't think he's interested in telling tall tales - it's too much work. So I'm going to believe this is true and if it's not... well, I'll just deal with it then.

Oh, look at me - I just looked and realized I've been babbling on without actually saying anything of note yet. It's like I think paper just grows on trees! (And yes, I know, it kinda sorta does!)

Ok. Enough jabbering! To what happened.

I'm going to assume you have a forest in your Here Yet Not Here (I think I'll just write that as HYNH for now. I hope you don't mind!). In my version it's called Glimmerwood Grove. It's a lovely forest, although I must admit I have an affinity for forests. My father's a woodcutter. He lives days away but it's a forest not unlike the one here. Here meaning near my cottage, not here like my side of HYNH. 

Anyway - I went camping in there once. And found a sleeping giant. With the most fungus-covered feet I've ever seen! It was... blech! I mean, I know we witches have to deal with the yucky and nasty parts of life, along with the life-fulfilling and satisfying ones, but still!

Ok - I was supposed to start telling you the story and I got distracted again. This time for sure!

Like I said, MouseEye got back from another one of his solo adventures. It turns out he was exploring Glimmerwood Grove. While he was in there, he found a kind of open-air throne room. He said he just happened upon it - that one second he was stepping, or I suppose padding, through some heavy brambles and ended up stepping into this space. It was all light blue, apparently - sort of like if the sky had been molded into bricks. But it's also apparently old enough to be covered in hanging vines and moss. He said the weird thing was that it all looked so well tended.

Sitting at the other end of the... I suppose it could be called a chamber, although I think chambers are supposed to have some sort of ceiling or roof over them. Anyway, at the opposite end was a throne. And apparently there was no doubting it was a throne because it was big, golden, and elaborate with carvings and ornate decorations. And sitting on the throne was an elf. Now... have I mentioned that MouseEye prides himself on watching and remembering things? This time, however, the self-described watcher was watched by this elf as he looked around and took it all in. And, I guess, the elf was quite amused by MouseEye's wondrous reactions to it all. 

"Welcome to my court.", the elf said in greeting.

"Hello.", MouseEye replied. And continued looking around.

"I am High Lord Aeronil. And you are?"

"MouseEye. You can call me MouseEye."

"And what brings you, MouseEye, to my court and my presence?"

"Hmm...? Oh... nothing. I just stepped through some foliage and ended up here."

"Ah.", was all the elf said.

"Were you hoping for someone in particular?"

The elf's smile dimmed a bit. "I'd hoped that... ah... well, never mind."

MouseEye insists that he turned his magnificent, soulful eyes towards the elf and that that was the reason he became more forthcoming.

"You see... I'd hoped someone would come and replace me here. And you seemed a likely candidate."

"But I thought you said this is your court."

"Ah... technically, it is. Presently. When my replacement takes over, it'll be their court."

"And you thought I was your replacement?"

The elf shrugged. "Stranger things have happened. You could've been a carefully disguised elf."

"How long have you been waiting?"

The elf sat up straighter. "Well... I don't know exactly. Mind you, when you're a member of a long-lived race, such as those of us from Elvendom, long stretches of time can pass by seemingly in an instant."

MouseEye nodded. Then he said, "So how long was that?"

"A long time."

"And you're the only one here?"

"Ah... yes. Yes, I am. The rearguard, I suppose. Of our migration to a new land."

"And so you're waiting on a replacement from the new land where your people are now?"

"That. Or for help in moving the throne. It's quite heavy."

MouseEye nodded in sympathy. "Ok. Well, I should go."

The elf stopped him. "Wait! Would you tarry longer? I'll trade you a tale for a tale."

That stopped MouseEye. "Would you say that your tale is a part of a much larger tale? The Tale of History, I think you could say?"

The elf pondered it. "Yes... I see your point. So - a portion of a tale for a portion of a tale."

"And would you also say that any portion of a tale, in terms of the Tale of History, would be quite a small portion of that tale?"

The elf looked confused, but said, "I don't know where you're going with this, but yes. My tale is but a very small piece of the great Tale of History."

So MouseEye said, "Agreed. You give me a small piece of a tale and I'll do the same and give you a small piece of a tale in return."

Now, I hope you recognize that I've filled in the gaps a bit here and there because, as I mentioned earlier, MouseEye isn't always great with telling me things and can omit some details. So this conversation and agreement may have a bit made up, but in the end MouseEye and the elf agreed to trade bits of a large tale. 

The elf told MouseEye about the history of Count von Rannoc, the necromatic vampire who lives in a dungeon close to the cottage. It's called Hero's Hollow. And I can attest to just how hollow it is! I fell into a jail cell while on my way to the Hollow for the first time! And that was in my first week of being the new witch here! Oh - yeah - I've now been here about two months, so I'm relatively new still, but I've been learning so much and visiting new places and treating all sorts of conditions! It's been fun learning and doing and all that!

And... oh, right! The Count! So it turns out a few hundred years ago, there was this pig farmer. He'd raise pigs, take them to market, or sometimes stay home - you know, all that. Nothing extraordinary. Some days he'd have plenty to eat and could even afford roast beef while other days were lean and there was no food at all. But this one day, when he went to the market, the slaughterhouse took his pigs but refused to pay him! He threatened to go to the police, which is when the mage, who'd been hired by the slaughterhouse for just this sort of thing, said he'd make sure that no one would ever trust him again and that he'd forever after be a creature of the night. He ran all the way home (making some sort of strange "wee wee" noise) but the transformation took hold - he was a vampire from that day forth.

He knew he could never live as a pig farmer again. Or, really, as a farmer at all. So he just ran. And wandered. Eventually he found the dungeon and took up residence there. He became a necromancer to try to find a way to reverse the vampirism. 

This, by the way, is the same vampire who tried to force the spirit of the land under my cottage to bend to his will. For his efforts, the land quite ably defended itself and defeated him, so he only ended up with bruises. 

Anyway, after the elf told his tale, MouseEye said, "That was quite a piece of tale you gave me. I hope you'll find the piece of tale I give you is satisfactory." And then he plucked a few hairs from his tail. "Here's a small piece of tail in return."

Now... I've wondered a time or two during my own adventures if perhaps I was pushing my luck in dealing with those I encounter. But this! This was... oh my! I can't even bring myself to imagine being that bold. And yet there he was, in all his mouse-y glory, holding a bit of fur out in trade for the story.

The elf, for his part, took the proffered hair. "You have played a trick on me. Were I not so bored, I might've taken offence. But this was the only entertainment I've had in ages."

I don't know if MouseEye went anywhere else after that, but as I said, he eventually came home and told me the tale and the tale of the tail.

Whew!

I see I'm getting close to the end of my paper, so I'll close this for now and hope to hear from you soon.

Your Bestie,

Sweet

After a moment's consideration, I folded up the packet of paper, addressed it to Pip, stretched my cramped writing hand, and wondered what she'd thing about this all.

And I'd have a thing or three to ponder over the next few days!

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.