Perrin frowns, turning the information over in his head. "We'll have to be careful getting him out. If I'm right about those berries they need to be replenished every few days, which means he may have some sort of druidic magic." Perrin shrugs. "He also might not have been hiding in the mirror on purpose to begin with. Maybe the Reapers trapped him in there."
Brother Thomas nods. "I am happy to help if you wish. This seems a reasonable proposal.
"I'm hoping we can just talk him into coming willingly. But I suspect it will be hard to convince him that we're real, and he may become hostile. So we should be prepared to tie him up or knock him out if we have to. I'll need a few minutes to get ready, but that's fine, since Brother Thomas will need some time to get to the guardhouse and let them get ready."
You aren't waiting long before you are introduced to a senior official in the Bishop's administration. In front of, he has several complaints of pirate attacks filed by captains like yourself. Your ship has also suffered several attacks. The official explains that the navy is looking into the matter and inquires why you requested an audience. You have observed the attacks to be well-coordinated to a suspicious extent, striking ships containing valuable but confidential cargo during the most vulnerable parts of their run.
As Mel makes her weapon, Perrin retrieves a tanglefoot bag from his now-accessible pouch and hands it to Ev, who is flitting over the mirror's surface with renewed interest. Perrin turns to Kazador and Mel. "Ready?"
"Yes," Mel sighs. "Let's go. I hope he'll listen to reason."
She enters the mirror.
You enter the mirror again. Mel and Perrin are prepared for the strange gravity but Kazador falls to the ground as "down" here is about 30 degrees different from your plane. Kazador looks up to see the silvery hallway with reflective walls, ceiling, and floors. He also sees the four mirrors on either side of the hall and the big one at the end of the hall. You all enter the mirror on the left and find the crazy man muttering to himself in his room full of odds and ends. He laughs harshly when he sees you. "Back, eh? I tell ya I'm not falling for yor tricks!"
Oh, this is going to go well, Mel thinks.
"You're going to think anything we say is a trick, aren't you?" she says. "I don't blame you. You've been cooped up in here way too long. You've been seeing things. So here ... take my hand."
She extends her hand to him, open, empty. "We're flesh and blood, just as you are. Feel for yourself."
The fellow spits. "Ha! Not fallin' for that!" and swipes his hand at Mel. When he slaps her palm, his face freezes in an expression of surprise. "What... What... Yer real? After all this time, there's someone real..." He begins sobbing with joy then stops suddenly, a look of suspicion and fear crossing his face. "Wait.. I get it. Yer Reaps! Come back to yer old hideout to taunt me, didncha!? Not enough to leave me to rot!!"
"Quite the opposite," Mel says in relief. "I suspect the Reaps probably hate our guts, considering we've killed two of their agents in the last 48 hours. Alric the Slow and ... what was the halfling's name? Daisy? Anyway, we're not with them. This was one of their hideouts, was it? How'd you get stuck in here?"
The man looks at Mel uncertainly then seems to decide he believes her and visibly relaxes. "I don't know those two but if yer no friends of the Reaps then ya might just be friends o' mine." He looks around at the place. "Yeah it was. But they don't like to keep the same hideouts too long. So they decided it'd make the perfect prison. They tied me up and did something to the spell. Then they got out before the way out stopped working... No body to hide and a punishment worse 'an death fer me." He looks up at you. "It's good to have friends but I got bad news. Yer stuck in here with me now."
Mel ignores the comment about being stuck in the mirror for the moment. "I'm Mel, by the way," she says. "That's Perrin, and Kazador. What's your name?"
He looks at Mel then shrugs. "I guess my name is Hal. Hal Blythe. Nice to meet you?" He's still not very sure about all of this.
"Yes! Nice to meet you!" Perrin agrees emphatically, sticking out a hand to shake. "Anyway, since we're new here, I'm curious to see what happens when we try to leave. You know, for science and such. Can you come out to the hallway with us and help us test it? It'll only take a minute."
Hal shrugs. "Sure if ya want. But it just forces yer hand back no matter how hard ya try. I got a nasty bump on the head many times from runnin' at it full tilt." He walks outside his room with you to the entrance mirror and moves his hand toward it "See..." but stops, frozen in shock when his hand passes through the mirror. "What... this has gotta be some kind of confusion..." He holds his head with his other hand, totally at a loss.
"Perrin! That's not nice," Mel scolds him. "We want him to help us. I don't think trying to trick him is a good way to start."
Turning to Hal, she goes on. "The spell was broken, yes; but the exit is working again. Perrin fixed it. None of us are stuck here."
"It sounds like you hate the Reaps, right? Here's the thing. We're working against the Reaps -- because we're working for the Bishop. We want you to work for him also. You know things about the Reaps. A lot of it's probably out of date, but you know how they think and roughly what capabilities they have. That could be very useful. We can get you out of here, and get you safely to the Bishop's guards without alerting the Reaps that you're out. You can eat real food, and drink things besides tepid water from a magic cup. You'll have a proper bed to sleep in. People to talk to. You'll be able to see the sun, and feel wind on your face."
"Now, I don't know what you may have done in the past. And I won't lie -- it's possible there might be outstanding charges against you. But we spoke with one of the Bishop's staff earlier, Brother Thomas. He said that he would recommend clemency for you, but that whether you get it or not would depend on what you've done in the past, and how cooperative you are now. I can't make any promises in this regard, but if you're lucky they may count your years in the mirror as time served."
"So: there it is. You don't really have a choice about whether to go; we're taking you into custody. But we're hoping you'll agree to come of your own free will and help the Bishop work against the Reaps."
Perrin gives a sigh of relief as Hal's hand passes through, then turns back to Mel in confusion. "Tricking? No, I actually wasn't sure this would work. He said the exit closed after the Reapers left... so I was worried it might be set up to break whenever it's used. What we did could have been a one-time fix." His expression brightens. "But it works! We can all leave!"
Hal looks at you, a tear trickling down his cheek. "I'll only ever see my wife and girl if I go with ya. So yes. I'll do it." He follows you if you're ready to go.
"Good man," Mel says, patting him on the shoulder. "Come on, then."
Mel steps back through the mirror. Once everyone is through, she says "All right, Kazador! To the guard house, if you please."
”Aye. Hold on, this should work...”
Once everyone as touching him he slammed the haft of his hammer on the ground:
”Gromthi! Dringorak-ha!”
You aren't waiting long before you are introduced to a senior official in the Bishop's administration. In front of, he has several complaints of pirate attacks filed by captains like yourself. Your ship has also suffered several attacks. The official explains that the navy is looking into the matter and inquires why you requested an audience. You have observed the attacks to be well-coordinated to a suspicious extent, striking ships containing valuable but confidential cargo during the most vulnerable parts of their run.
Captain Brolin Muse adjusts his hat. The tricorn's design is dated enough that the style has rotated through popular opinion and become popular enough. Not that his was a particularly nice example of the design; the leather may have once been some other color than grey, two and a half centuries ago. Brolin had paid a hatter an exhorbiant fee to stitch the thing back together, but all the polish in the world couldn't undo two hundred and thirty eight years of damage at the hands of the sun and sea.
Scabb? he asks.
Aye? Scabb answers.
Muse considerately unlaces and removes his boots before propping his feet on the Administrator's desk. What's your take?
"If 'tis an inside job, yon Admin'strator t'ain't likely on th' inside, methinks. We spill wha' we know, wee point playin' cards close t' th' chest when th' only scallywag sittin aside us a' th' table be a part o' our own crew. This here be our safest gamble by a long sea-mile, says I.
Brolin turns the words over in his head.
Yup, no clue what you're saying.
With a heavy sigh, he speaks to the Administrator. "These pirates target only certain ships. Ships carrying cargo that's both valuable and confidential. No one is supposed to know what it is we're shipping, I don't know what it is I've been shipping, but somehow the pirates? Do. The Sonder got hit twice. Seems a little much to swallow for a coincidence, so I asks around, look through some files."
The merchant captain draws a flask from within his sea coat and imbibes. Hmmm . . . it takes him a moment to identify just what is wrong. Horsey. Last time he buys Longshank's Old Bootrot. Be a waste not to finish it, though.
"So, either these pirates have the sorts of divinations that make augury look like a cantrip, or they have someone on the inside, someone inside the Guild, with clout enough to read files I can't get my hands on."
"Figured I talk to someone outside the Guild about it," the worried captain finishes.
Mel, Perrin, Kazador, and Hal appear rapidly in the guardhouse. Smythe is waiting with half a dozen guards. "You have proved most strange visitors to our city!" Smythe proclaims. "But I will happily receive another member of the Reapers into custody. I suppose you should be part of this interrogation." Some guards clap manacles on Hal and lead him into the biggest interrogation room while Smythe beckons for you to follow.
The official nods and jots notes thoughtfully as Brolin speaks of a conspiracy. "Perhaps you are correct! I will include all of your information in my report. You have been most helpful!"
While you are walking into the interrogation room, you receive speech in your head. It is the Bishop's voice "Three contacts information maybe relevant investigation. Albert Norwich of Watch, Guardhouse. Brolin Muse merchant, Sonder, Anselm's Wharf. Francis Stone, merchant, Textile Headquarters."
Mel pulls the Colonel aside briefly as they go into the interrogation chamber. "I think it would be better to think of this one as a former member of the Reapers, Colonel," Mel says quietly to Smythe. "He hates them because they betrayed him and left him trapped inside a magic mirror for the last fifteen years. His mental state is somewhat fragile as a result of his prolonged isolation, and much of his information is likely to be out of date. But he may well have some useful information on the methods that the Reapers use and perhaps some of the organization's long-term goals."
"He's been alone and living on magic berries and tepid water for a decade and a half. I believe he will cooperate willingly in exchange for some very simple comforts such as some decent meals, a proper bed to sleep in, and an opportunity -- in time -- to reconnect with his wife and daughter. He also may want payback against the Reapers, which may make him more willing to assist us. Naturally any outstanding charges must be addressed, but Brother Thomas suggested that clemency might be an option provided he cooperates fully, and depending on the nature of any offenses he committed in past. Basically -- try using incentives first. I believe they will work better than penalties in this case."
Her head turns as she suddenly starts hearing a message. She quickly grabs a pen and piece of paper and jots down some names, saying "And the Bishop just sent word on some other leads to follow up on once we're done with this one. My goodness, life has become busy!"
Smythe sighs in frustration with Mel. "You've had some remarkable success in a brief period of time but I know how to run an interrogation!" He crosses his arms in resigned dissatisfaction. "We'll try it your way first but if it doesn't get results quickly I will employ a more confrontational line of questioning."
Kazador was about to argue, but thought better of it. Instead he said ”I’ll hop down to the tavern. Grab some ale and food. Be right back...Gromthi! Dringorak-ha!” He slammed his hammer down and vanished.
Half a minute later he came back, a mug of ale in one hand and a wedge of cheese under his arm. ”Best I could do. Maybe this’ll open him up to us.”
"Thank you, Kazador," Mel says.
The interrogation chamber proves to be a simple meeting room, with a long table and chairs. It has windows, but they are simple slits far too narrow for a humanoid form to pass through, allowing in sufficient light. The guards sit Hal at one end of the table, and then step back into the two corners behind him, within an easy lunge's reach should he attempt anything untoward.
Mel places the food and drink before him. "I don't know if you're hungry," she says, "But I imagine it might be nice to have some variety. Please feel free to take a moment, and we'll get started in just a minute."
She confers quietly with the others for a moment, assembling a list of questions while Hal eats. His hands are of course manacled, but in front of him.
When she is finished, she goes down the list:
- Please state your name for the record.
- You mentioned you have a wife and daughter. What are there names?
- Where should we look for them?
- How did you become involved with the Reapers?
- What did they have you do?
- What did they use the mirror hideaway for?
- Why did they decide to maroon you in the mirror?
- How did you survive all that time in there?
- What can you tell us about the long-term goals of the Reapers?
- Do they favor any particular codes?
- How do Reapers recognize one another?
- Are there any specific people you know to be Reaper agents?
- What questions should we ask you that we haven't?
She takes notes, of course, jotting down questions that occur to her as follow-ups to the information he gives.
Hal leans forward eagerly and digs into the food the best his manacles will allow him. Smiling and talking with a mouth full of food, he replies ”No. Not hungry. But this beats berries by miles!” When Mel begins her questioning, he straightens up, taking this very seriously. ”My name’s Harold Donald’s Son. My wife and daughter are Sheila and Margie Donaldson. I don’t know where they be now but fifteen years ago we lived on the second floor of a wooden tenement near the Capitol Wharf. Landlord went by the name of Joseph Marlow.”
He’s clearly reluctant to talk about his involvement with the Reapers but he breathes deeply and begins. ”I got involved with the Reaps when I was just becomin’ a man. I worked tradin’ between towns as I’d always been good gettin’ around out a doors. A man approached me one day when I was deliverin’ some goods to Helm. Paid me good coins to take a package quiet-like. Soon, I was doin’ more an’ more for ‘em.”
He shudders when asked to talk about the mirror that trapped him for so long. ”The mirror was a safehouse for the most part. I hid there between drops when things were getting’ too hot with the guard.” He swallows somewhat nervously as he looks around the room. ”Er… um… the guard were very professional and effective. Made it very hard to be a criminal in Helm. Kept goin’ on sheer luck otherwise they’d a caught me fer sure!!” He smiles nervously at Colonel Smythe and continues ”Well I heard they were gettin’ caught up in big stuff. The man up top had big plans. Startin’ to take political jobs, ya know? Knock off an official here. Discredit a fellow there. And I could smell that it was gonna get way too hot for me. So I made the mistake o’ tellin’ the Reaps it was my last drop.”
A tear runs down his dirty cheek. ”Big mistake. If I’d just been smarter I coulda stayed with my family.” He wipes it away and tries to keep going. ”They left me in there, knowin’ I wouldn’t die. I got a little magic I use when I’m travelin’. Keeps me supplied with as much water and food as I need.” You recognize that he talking about the spells Create Water and Goodberry.
He runs his hands through his long, disheveled hair. ”Can’t say I know much specific ‘bout their long-term goals. Get money and power, I guess. Codes changed pretty often so I can’t tell ya much about that. Typically there was a small hand sign we made ta recognize each other. But that changed once a year. “ He’s been growing increasingly nervous for the past minute or so but continues. ”Well yeah I know a few.” He gives you quite a few aliases and descriptions.
He sighs and looks at Mel piercingly. ”Look? Can ya give me some kind of guarantee of protection? Nobody leaves the Reaps and talks. Nobody.”
"For myself, I have no wish to see you come to harm, and will do everything I can to ensure your safety. But I believe you'll need the full support of the Bishop's forces for proper protection. Colonel Smythe? Brother Thomas? Hal here has put himself at considerable risk if the Reaps should discover that he has gotten free and talked about his experiences. I believe he deserves protection -- not least because if you want future witnesses to talk, they'll need to trust that you can protect them. For the moment, a secure cell would do, along with measures to ensure his presence does not become known. If they don't know he's out of the mirror, they won't know to come after him. In time, if the Bishop grants clemency for his past involvement with the Reaps, perhaps he could be resettled in a different town with a new identity."
"Does anyone else have any questions for him? I'm satisfied."
Smythe looks uncertain but at firm nodding from Brother Thomas he agrees. "We will take the measures you describe to ensure his safety."
Hal nods and breathes deeply. He leans forward to speak in a low voice. [smaller]"Then there's one more thing I should tell ya. The man at the top. The head of the Reaps. All I know about him is that he'd been in charge for a while when I got it and they say he had an imp. Nasty thing always spying for 'im. I never met 'im myself." He shudders. "Ok. Where's this safe cell yer talkin' about?"
”An imp? Then a finger waggling spell caster, who traffics with the lower realms? Bloody well great.”
Perrin listens intently to Hal's answers, scratching his head as they keep reaching dead ends.
When the topic of the imp comes up he shifts uncomfortably in his seat, and there's a sudden frantic fluttering from the pocket of his cloak. Ev pokes her head out, looking about as interested as a bat can look.
Perrin clears his throat awkwardly. "Um, one more question. You mentioned you did deliveries for them... did you ever come in contact with Reaper shipping? Can you tell us anything about their presence on the wharves? For instance, any vessels they used as front?"
Ev asks you, very excited "What's an imp?!"
Hal shakes his head. "I know they had their paws in just 'bout everything. Can't tell ya much more 'an that about the ships. Stayed on land, myself."
"An imp, huh? Terrific," Mel says. "Hard to catch, hard to damage, hard to kill, and incredibly sneaky. And it could indicate that the Reaper leader has some kind of relationship with the hells. That's just lovely. I think I may need to go get some silver weapons."
She stands up and stretches. "Tomorrow, though! It's been a long day, and I for one am wiped out."
Ev ponders this interesting tidbit. "So it's like me? Good at flying and sneaking around? Does it look like me but red?"
The colonel nods. "Yes I believe this interrogation is over. We will bring Mr. Donaldson to a secure cell and coordinate with the Bishop's administration to secure him."
With the interrogation wrapped up, you head back to the Cozy Badger. There, the proprietor catches you immediately and takes you into a back room, an earnest look on his face. "Thank you. Thank you so much for saving my boy. I don't know what was wrong or going on with that mirror but he'll certainly never touch it again. And you are always welcome to room and board at the Badger, free of charge. I can't imagine if we'd lost him... I look forward to the day when I pass the family name down to him but I today worried I'd never see it... You saved us from that." His voice catches and he can't speak for a minute. Finally, his throat relaxes enough for him to talk "We're humble folk here. I can't believe that this happened to us. We never wanted to get caught up in something magical and secretive..."
Certain villages from the northern portion of the Bishopric have a tradition where the oldest son fully takes on the family name when he comes of age. Hal is obviously not the oldest son of such a family as his name would be Donald Donaldson if so.
"Think of it this way," Mel says brightly. "Now you've got a bunch of extra storage space down there. Though I recommend not using the first chamber on the right, it's ... pretty vile. Also, best leave the last chamber at the far edge alone; it apparently keeps the spell going."
She purses her lips thoughtfully. "I recommend against letting anyone outside your family know the mirror's down there, though," she adds. "It was apparently created by the Reaps. They abandoned it about 15 years ago and disabled it when they left. If they learn it's been fixed, they may come back to investigate. I'm sure we'd all prefer to avoid that."
------------------------
After a busy morning of shopping, some impromptu barmaid work, a bizarre interlude inside an enchanted mirror and an interrogation, Mel is well and truly ready to put her feet up. Heading upstairs to her room, she shrugs out of her armor and spends an hour cleaning up and tending her wounds.
Feeling considerably better, Mel pulls out her newly acquired copy of the Enchiridion Pan Caelestes and spends a little time reading before bed. Curious, Mel returns to the marginal notations that had caught her eye earlier. "Salt marsh... Serpent Isles... Immonhiel... Alchemy... Healing and goodness," she murmurs. "Who is Immonhiel?" She flips through the book looking for the name, and discovers:
Sweet relief she grants -- sometimes balm to cure an ailment, or speed healing; but sometimes, when a disease or wound has gone too far, she will grant only surcease from pain and peace before the end of life. Her worshipers say that she favors celestial toads and wood giants as servitors, and thus they show their devotion to her by bathing with toads in cool ponds.
(A marginal notation in a different hand her adds: One presumes they settled on toads because wood giants are harder to come by and take up a lot more space in the tub.)
Though their religious habits are somewhat odd, all who have spoken with them agree that Immonhiel's followers are expert healers. In addition to magical healing, they are noted for their non-magical skill with diagnosis, surgery, and particularly herbal cures carefully concocted from a large variety of marsh plants. Indeed, some claim they are the most advanced alchemists in the world, though this is soundly disputed by others. It is difficult to put such a claim to the test, as they are few in number and live in a remote area that is not well known.
Immonhiel has no fixed abode; her followers claim she travels the world in disguise, sheltering with mortals to test their hospitality and heal the hurts of the righteous. Her holy symbol is a wooden toad covered with herbs; some of her followers carve toad-shaped planters in which to grow herbs. If they have any particular festivals or holy days, they are unknown outside the Serpent Isles. Still, all authorities agree that Immonhiel's adherents do good work in the world.
"Interesting," Mel murmurs to herself; then yawns hugely, and sets the book aside. She blows out the candle, then crawls into bed and falls fast asleep.
You experience a strange, silent dream. You see two friends walking through the woods. You can't distinguish anything about them as they are very hazy. The first friend becomes wildly confused for no discernible reason and stabs the second in the back. The first then sobs over the bleeding body of its comrade as the second's life runs red into the moss.
A massive, black bull appears to you in your dreams and speaks in a deep, rumbling voice. "Little Perrin. Our arrangement is working well for you, no? I have a command. Go to the south wall of the central guardhouse and carve this rune into the stone." A battle axe with an overly-large stone set in the hilt flashes before you.
It has been nagging at the back of your mind for a while but the name Albert Norwich sticks in your head in a funny way. After a while you recall that it was the name of one of the few human characters in an old dwarven folktale.
As they make their way back to the Cozy Badger, Perrin turns to Mel and Kazador. "So you got that message from the Bishop too? Think we should look into it tomorrow?"
When they speak with Henry he agrees with Mel's recommendations. "I think the mirror should turn off whenever it's covered, so you could keep it facing the wall or the ground just in case."
Finally, Perrin eats a quick dinner and heads up to his room. There he completes his planned crafting, tinkering away as the sky grows dark. At a few points he stops and stares off at nothing, then jerks away from his thoughts and resumes working at an almost frantic pace. When finished, he hurriedly climbs into bed.
The orc's blow almost bisected the unfortunate Cyrus. His mace fell from nerveless fingers, and as he toppled forward the orc's jaws finished the job. Rally gave a sharp cry of grief as Cyrus fell in red ruin.
In his bed, Perrin tosses back and forth. His eyelids flutter, and a single word floats from his lips: "...useless..." The dream shifts again.
"Can you really make my daddy better if the orcs chop him up?"
Vors nearly falls under the weight of their blows while Allen falls with a cry.
Perrin sits bolt upright, clutching the sides of the mattress. He stares around the dark room, muttering a word with something very much like contempt. "Useless." Even awake, another painful memory rises to the surface.
The man forces his way through the window, shakes off Perrin's attempt to enchant him, and strikes with fist and dagger at Roet in retaliation. He moves with a blinding speed and expertise, leaving Roet gasping for breath and in severe pain
Perrin breathes in, then out. His expression fills with a strange clarity, and he clambers out of bed, crossing to his bag. Reaching in, he heaves out the body of Alric the Slow. He stares at it for a long moment, concentrating. The only light is the pale, flickering glow of the amulet around his neck. Slowly, very slowly, Perrin reaches out and places a hand over the corpse's jaw. As he applies pressure, a jagged tooth sinks into his palm, and blood starts oozing out.
Perrin murmurs an incantation and the blood flows more quickly. It mixes with the Alric's, bubbling as the corpse's flesh peels away to leave nothing but stark bone.
The skeleton sits up.
Perrin smiles.
When Perrin wakes and conducts his business, Ev watches very curiously. Then she pipes up "I think I know where I saw one of those impy things."
Mel wakes earlier than usual. She lies in bed a few moments, struggling to capture more of the dream she'd just had. But the harder she tries to recall it, the swifter the images flee. After a while she shakes her tousled head and sits up.
Taken by a sudden desire for solitude, Mel dresses quickly, gathers her bowmaking tools, and scribbles a note that says Off working, back for dinner. - M.
Leaving the note tucked into the frame of her room's door, Mel makes her way quietly out of the Cozy Badger.
The morning mists haven't yet fully burned off, and the streets are only just beginning to show signs of life as she strides through them. Stopping only to purchase a meat pasty from an early street vendor, Mel makes her way to the outlying farms on the north side of town. There she locates a small grove of trees overlooking a field. A patch of bluebells spreads beneath them, making the most of the early spring light before the trees leaf out fully. Mel breathes in their scent happily.
"Oi Ostara, kiitokseni siunauksistasi," Mel says.
She spends a few minutes just drinking in the sounds, sights and smells of early spring. After a while, she sighs, pulls out her tools, and sets to work on crafting a new bow for herself.
The day passes quickly, and quietly; a few curious passersby glance over at her, but no one approaches.
Just before dinner time, Mel finishes her bow. She tests it a few times, shooting arrows into a nearby stump. Satisfied, she nods, packs away her tools and her new bow, and makes her way back to the Cozy Badger, smiling the whole way.
I needed that, she thinks. Just a day to myself.
Perrin crouches down next to the creature and speaks softly. "Hello, Mr. Slow. Don't move until I say so. And never harm any creature unless I specifically tell you to." Then he rolls the skeleton up in its ruined cloak, lifts it back into the bag, and cleans up the blood with a bit of conjured water. He staggers back to his bed and collapses onto it.
When Ev addresses him in the morning he turns to her with interest. "Oh! Where?"
Alice sees you head out with tools and return with a finely crafted bow. She's mostly covered in flour but she dusts herself off and comes over to you somewhat shyly. "That looks incredible. May I see it?"
Ev flies around in excitement "In the guardhouse two days ago!"
"Sure," Mel says, holding out the bow. It's made of ash, with a light grey stain the brings out the grain in darker lines. The grip is bound in dark brown leather, and Mel inked the outline of a snowbell -- Ostara's holy symbol -- into the back, just above the grip.
She strings the bow and hands it to Alice. "Have you ever tried shooting a bow?" Mel asks.
Alice examines the bow with interest as Mel holds it out but doesn't take it in her hands. She leans forward and looks up and down its considerable length. She whispers in a small voice "It's beautiful..." She pushes a few loose strands of hair out of her face and points at the snowbell. "What's that?"
"Oh! Well, that's a snowbell, one of the small white flowers that push their way up through the last bits of snow to bloom when there is still chill in the air. It's also the holy symbol of Ostara, Lady of Spring. I pay respect to all good deities, but she's my favorite. She values renewal, and strong communities where people look out for one another, and she loves flowers. Snowbells spring up in clumps that support one another, first thing after the long dark of winter. So nothing quite captures what Ostara is all about quite so well as that flower."
Mel speaks warmly through all this, but then her voice grows softer and regretful. "Ostara does not like violence. But she recognizes that sometimes there is no avoiding it. When there is need, she favors the bow."