the witch flew out the window and into the sky, and found herself in another universe, with a different moon and different stars, as promised by the inquisitor.
she alighted on a dark road, and resumed human form. as there were no reflecting pools nearby, and no mirrors lying in the road, she could not see what she looked like, but she trusted the inquisitor enough at least in so small a matter, that she assumed she must look good. she could see and feel that she was in the form of a young, rather than an old, woman.
the clothing she was wearing seemed warm enough. there was a definite threat of a storm in the dark sky.
there were no signs of human habitation, humble or otherwise, in sight. she commenced walking.
so far. so good.
the only thing that disturbed her peace of mind at all was the inquisitor’s statement that she might encounter arboc, or kobra, in this universe.
the bandit had been alternately her ally and nemesis through many revolutions, and she had had enough of him.
on the one hand, this universe, however small and backward, was still a universe, and what were the chances of encountering him in any universe?
but on the other hand, why would the inquisitor mention it if he did not think it likely?
she walked along, encountering no one. the storm threatened but did not break.
she saw a few lights. they seemed to belong to a single small building at a bend in the road,
and as she approached it took the form of a small old fashioned inn.
there were lights on in two rooms on the top floor, and one on the ground floor. none of the lights were bright, as if each one was only the illumination of a single lamp or candle.
suddenly the storm broke, and the erstwhile witch and hopeful princess quickened her pace, and then broke into a run as the skies poured rain down upon her.
she reached the back of the inn. the illumination she had seen in the ground floor was hardly visible through the one small window beside the back door. the eaves of the building provided almost no shelter from the rain.
the inn reminded her of many others she had known in her travels.
she moved around to the front of the building. here was the lit room she had seen from the road.
she peered through the window. two men were seated at a table. she could barely make out their forms as shadows.
one had the unmistakable slouch of an obsequious innkeeper. he was listening and nodding as the other spoke.
and the other - could it be? could it be kobra? he had the menacing form of the bandit, and gestured to his hearer in the same manner…
no - she only thought so because off the suggestion of the inquisitor. there were a million blathering bullies like kobra in every universe, most of them born to be hanged.
i have to pull myself together, she told herself. i am getting off to a bad start here.
but she moved back to the back of the inn.
peering through the little window she could see no movement. she rapped on the door.
no response. she started pounding harder.
if that did not work, she would change into a bird or a fox and seek shelter in a tree or in the ground. it seemed a poor way to begin a new existence in a new universe.
she gave one more bang on the back door.
it began to slowly open. she saw the frightened face of a little man, probably a servant, looking out at her.
she gave him no time to think about closing the door on her, but pushed him aside and entered quickly, but not so quickly that the little man did not get a face full of rain.
“close the door,” she whispered to the fellow who seemed turned to stone by her appearance, and he obeyed.
there was a flight of stairs just inside the door, and she dragged the little man into the shadows beneath them.
“you must help me,” she hissed.
he nodded.
“are you a servant here?”
“no, miss, i am a weary traveler.” he managed a timid smile. “like yourself.”
“i see.” she looked him up and down. “tell me, sir traveler - this inn, does it have a good reputation? are poor travelers like ourselves likely to wake up in the morning and find ourselves in the oven?”
“why as to that, miss, i can not say. i have never stopped here before, but i am taking my chance. as all we poor mortals do, every day of our brief existences.”
“i see you are a philosopher, as well as a traveler. if you do not mind my asking , are you some sort of peddler?”
“indeed i am, miss, i am a poor seller of flowers.” the little man glanced back at the pale light streaming from the front room. “but why are we standing here, perhaps we could go back to the parlor, where we could be more comfortable?”
the witch ignored this, grasped the little man’s shirt, and spoke in an even lower voice. “tell me, sir flowerseller, the landlord here - what sort of company does he keep?”
“why as to that, i can not say what sort of company he usually keeps, but i can tell you what sort of company he is keeping right now.”
“ah. and that is - ?”
“the flowerseller lowered his voice to the barest whisper. “that of a notorious bandit and rebel!”
“and this fellow - does he have a name?” the witch whispered back.
“indeed he has - the name of kobra!”
No comments:
Post a Comment