The Mephit's Tales

As chance meetings went, this one had turned out pretty good.

Jenny had been walking down Denton Street, keeping an eye out for one of the many lonely men in the city with more money than charm who might be in need of some company, and trying to keep out of the wind and rain without sacrificing that, when she’d met him. Tall, fit, good-looking, nice smile – not her usual sort of client; she’d smiled back, waved, said hello, and started to go on her way.

“Rough night to be out,” he’d said. “Want to duck inside for a coffee or something? My treat.”

She’d been surprised; she’d laughed. “You know, hon, if you’re looking for company you don’t need to go through all that fancy stuff.”

“Oh, I know,” he’d said, and smiled even wider. “That’s not what I’m after. Call it professional courtesy. I won’t keep you long.”

(more…)

For some time – maybe seconds, maybe minutes – Ash just stared at the blank surface of the door in front of him, his heart hammering in his chest. The view offered him neither answers nor reassurance.

He took a breath and tried to remind himself that he’d been invited here. It wouldn’t be an imposition to announce that he was here, even if he had got to this spot a bit early. It might be something of one if he let himself be late.

Another breath, and he glanced at his chrono. Despite the eternity that he felt like he’d been standing here, he was still a few minutes early – he hadn’t frittered away that much time, at least. Best to get moving on this before he did.

Which would be so much easier if not for the contents of the little bag dangling from his tail, and just what his would-be host had said about this visit that prompted that package… but if he went down that mental road, he’d probably freak out and bolt.

Instead, he stretched up on his toes to reach the door chime.

(more…)

It can’t be done, they’d all said.

Why not? Jofrey had asked.

But then, that could describe much of the young man’s life to date. He’d always chafed under rules and restrictions, the more so when nobody could give him a good answer why those rules existed in the first place. Some of them made perfect sense, at least once he was old enough to see other people as people and not mobile scenery. He wouldn’t want his possessions taken from him, so he shouldn’t take things that belonged to others. Fine.

But why couldn’t he walk through the orchard instead of around it? Why was this treat only made around Midsummer when the ingredients were always at hand? Why did he need to approach dray lizards always from the left? Why was it so important to use this fork for the main course and that one for dessert?

(more…)

He sat apart from the crowd, nursing his drink, but he watched them. In the cut and colour of clothing, in the flow of the crowd, in the movement of individual bodies, in every gesture, his keen gold eyes looked for patterns even as they saw beauty. In each footstep, each heavy beat of the music, his ears detected a rhythm that his heart found itself following. He never focused on any one person for long, but he watched almost always, only rarely turning his attention to the bartender for a refill and that for as little time as he could manage.

He couldn’t sustain that sort of scrutiny forever, especially not as the drink and the beat collided in some corner of his mind and started to dull his senses; and as his picture of the crowd came to be dominated by motion over form, he lost himself in the flow, his sight losing focus as his thoughts turned inward.

(more…)

It was just a trick of the light. It had to be.

Eric couldn’t really have seen himself, wearing fine clothes and fancy jewellery, in the crowd coming out of the subway station. He hadn’t worn his good suit and months, and he didn’t even have that much jewellery, couldn’t possibly afford it.

It must have just been a reflection of his face happening to match with someone better-dressed. Right?

(more…)

All the signs looked to be right.

Arianna heard rumours, from time to time, about people in the next village over doing magic. Usually they turned out to be made of whole cloth – someone claiming gifts they didn’t actually possess, or someone else being accused of things they couldn’t possibly have done. She did her duty and followed up on them anyway, at least long enough to confirm that the person in question did not actually have any magical ability; but it wasn’t something she put any great priority on.

This time, though, was different.

(more…)

Thievery, Alain had found, demanded a peculiar mix of patience and committed impulse. Whether it was picking pockets, lifting goods at the market, or breaking and entering, there was always the need to wait for just the right moment to act – and then to do so without hesitation.

Even on the larger scale, picking exactly which job he was going to undertake took much the same discipline.

(more…)

He knew things had been tense, of course.

How could he not? It would take an idiot to miss that, and Jake was no idiot. He’d been working long hours; Allie’s days hadn’t been all that much longer, but this was the season for them to be hectic, even crazy; and yet things had piled on so much that between the two of them they’d barely been able to make ends meet. He’d been short, she’d been shrill; afterwards, they’d always made up, told each other that things would be better once life settled down, but it was so draining that things just hadn’t settled down.

(more…)

The last bale settled into place, and Garen stood upright, back arching a little in a stretch. “There,” he declared, “finally done!”

His companion dipped his head slightly. “Yes, sir,” the lion rumbled.

“What?” Garen laughed, winding an arm around the bigger creature’s waist. “It’s just us here, Shevar. You don’t need to ‘yes, sir’ me when we’re alone here.

Shevar nuzzled into the human’s brown hair. “I need to stay in the habit.”

Garen sighed into the lion’s shoulder. “Three months,” he mused. “Three months until we can get that collar off of you. Come springtime…” He drew his head back, a grin spreading over his face. “We can go somewhere we won’t need to keep a blanket in the hayloft for our time together, huh?”

(more…)

With a rattle of beads, a figure entered the hut.

His stride was slow and thoughtful, his attention focused on one small thing in his hand. He set that thing upon a carved and inlaid platter and brought it with him to a mat in the back of the hut, opposite the bead-strewn entrance. There he sat, cross-legged with the platter in front of him, his back against the central pole, gazing down upon his treasure and thinking.

(more…)

Tonight the manor gardens were abuzz with activity. Normally, this courtyard was for the baron’s private use; but the current baron, as he had for thirty years, invited people in for the Harvest Fair. Most of the people of the village were here now, dancing or singing or laughing or feasting. The tables were heavy with the bounty of the farms and the forests alike, and the wine flowed freely. Farther out, couples walked among the trees and ponds, or found some space to occupy together.

It was these that Janni paid the most attention to. The people at the centre of the gathering were mostly distracted by one another, but some of those wandering ones and twos were watching the night, and might notice a newcomer more readily. Even if they didn’t see her, that wouldn’t help if she stepped on someone’s toes. She made her way across the moonlit gardens, from the shadow of one tree to another. She couldn’t hope to keep entirely to the shadows, much as she might wish to do so; closer to the gathering, there was simply too much light. But her weaving path kept her in shadow as much as she could arrange, and when it could not, she trusted to her hooded cloak to make her just another patron of the Duke’s generosity.

Just another fair-goer ambling about the grounds, that was the key.

(more…)

The first light of dawn found Arlic at the hot springs, soaking in the steaming pool. Once he emerged, the two robed acolytes who had taken away his clothing now rubbed him dry with clean cloths, from head to hooves, then brushed him, leaving his snow-white coat shining and smooth; and then they guided him into the circle of stones, to the altar stone at the centre.

He’d known for weeks that this was coming, but being so close to the altar made it real in a way it hadn’t been before, and his heart hammered in his chest as the acolytes laid a patterned, woven blanket over the stone, arranging it just so, doubled over itself. And with that modest padding in place, it was his turn to settle gingerly onto the altar. A beaded leather cuff was wrapped around each of his limbs, padding the thongs that then lashed him to the four posts around the stone, leaving only his head and tail free. Thus secured, they gave his hooves a thorough polish, ridding them of what little dirt had clung to them between the spring and the stone.

And then, while one departed to continue preparations, the other sat with him. As the sun rose higher into the sky, she shifted a small awning to shade him. It was necessary that he remain there for all of Sowing Day, but it was not necessary or at all desired that he be uncomfortable through it; so she kept the light out of his eyes, shifted his bonds when he found they chafed, and brought him food and drink – sometimes water, sometimes wine.

(more…)

Springtide dawned heavy with clouds, which was encouraging to nobody. Indeed, everyone in town was apprehensive as they went through the day. Oh, it wasn’t ominous as such – not yet. But the leaden skies didn’t bode well for the clear, starry night that everyone hoped for.

The old seer always said that the stars told about what was, not what would be; that the only way anyone, even he, could predict the future was in light of the present. And sometimes, people tried to encourage themselves with that. Even the gloomiest of visions did not mean that the future would stay so dark.

But the world didn’t change overnight, did it?

(more…)

The day had been lively, even noisy – brightly-coloured cloth strewn over every surface that would support it, children laughing and playing, youth and adults playing at all manner of competitions. The sun was warm, the breeze was mild, and the hills were green again after the winter’s chill. What wasn’t to celebrate?

Now the fires were lit, the sun was sinking under the mountains to the west, and the sky was darkening; it was time for the games to be set aside, time for the energy to settle down. The people gathered around the bonfire, mothers gathering their children close, and one by one, chattering voices fell silent.

When all that remained was the hiss and crackle of the fire, the wise woman emerged from her hut.

(more…)

“Give your fears to the fire,” the old seer called to the passersby. “Give a name to your nightmares and see them consumed! Find the courage to face whatever you must!” And some of the people going by would pause, and scribble something on a scrap of paper, and toss it into the brazier while the old man smiled.

“You, sir!” he called out to one in particular. “Yes, you, traveller. Your heart looks heavy – come, put a name to your innermost demons and consign them to the flames. You’ll feel better for it, I assure you!”

“Have you taken leave of your senses, old man?” a young warrior passing by hissed. “That’s the Dragonslayer, the bravest man in the land! He’s not afraid of anything!”

The man who’d been called the Dragonslayer snorted, cuffing the youth on the shoulder as he came up to the seer’s little stall. “The graveyards are full of people who aren’t afraid of anything,” he observed, tapping the fingers of one hand atop a scrap of paper and turning a charcoal stick in the other.

“Aha.” The seer nodded slowly. “It’s a wise man who grows to your age living by the sword.”

(more…)