PART SIXTY-THREE:
Odd old woman or middle-aged merchant:
“Where is the young man?” Asked the visiting stranger. Apparently ignoring the woman's question, by rendering hers. “The young man? What young man? I believe you have the wrong stall.” Dirata offered quickly and successively. “Actually, I do have the right store. I know, because the lad I seek is your nephew. Or should I say your relative?” She chuckled, in a hair-raising manner again. “Oh, you mean Asco?” Was all the market woman could offer sheepishly. The visitor continued again, as if the stall owner had not spoken. “I came to find out, if he delivered on the job for which I paid him.” She finished, her cold gaze never flinching nor leaving the market woman’s face.
“The job?" Asked Dirata, simultaneously stepping back. As if to protect herself, from the old woman’s disconcerting stare and discomforting aura. “Asco does not have a job. He is learning a trade, at the Study Place. He helps me out here every now and then, for a stipend.” Explained the store owner, still very wary of the unwelcome and unnerving stranger. The strange woman cackled fitfully, before responding. A look of impatience, suddenly spreading across her face.
“I am quite aware, that he does not have a job. At least not with you, he does not.” Mocked the old woman, forcefully and partially flashing some teeth.
“However, what I did ask you was; Has your nephew delivered on the job, for which I PAID him?” “You paid him for a job?” Countered Dirata earnestly. A reaction which made the old woman, roll her eyes dramatically. “I have no idea, of what you are talking about. I don’t even know who you are, or how my nephew knows you.” Finished the market woman, shrugging in exasperated resignation. She also appeared to be expecting, an honest answer.
“You will have to ask the young man yourself. I did not come here for an interrogation.” The visitor offered, with a sly grin.
“Find out all you need to know, from him. If at all that will help alleviate your ignorance.” Uncaring about the woman's reaction to her insult, she began to cackle again. Suddenly, as if on cue from her voice. A potted plant fell off the shelf, at the other end of the small stall. Causing the market woman to turn immediately, towards the direction from where the noise came. “Excuse me for a second,” Dirata spoke to the stranger without turning to look at her. Heading quickly to the anticipated mess and wondering as she did. How the clay pot, filled with wet soil. Had managed to tumble over and fall to the ground.
“Strange how this must have fallen,” she said mostly to herself. “Anyway, I will have to come back and clean it up later. So, as we were saying….”
She turned back, towards the center of the stall. Where she and the strange woman, had been conversing a few minutes ago. Instead of the female, her nephew stood there looking scared and flustered. “Asco! When did you come in? And where is the old woman?” Dirata made a full circle turn, in astonishment. “She was just here looking for you. Something about what she had paid you to do.” Informed the astounded woman. “Old woman?” Asked the young man, evidently confused. “Yes the old woman! She was just here now, looking for you. She wanted to know if you had done the job for which she paid you. What is going on Asco? What is all this about?” The woman was still looking around the stall in alarm.
“I don’t know any old woman, aunt Dira.” Started the young man. “The only person that paid me to do a job, which is to find someone. Is the wealthy merchant, who just walked out the stall. And he is a middle-aged man, not an old woman!”
Dirata just stared at him, nonplussed and unable to move. Not sure which one of them, needed to be hit across the head for instant realization. “But that’s not why I came aunty.” Supplied the young man quickly, guilelessly changing the subject. Simply interpreting the older woman’s silence, as an invitation to state his concern. “There’s been a big problem, with the job I was paid to do. And the merchant says; I have 44 hrs to return the money."
True colors and no spectrum:
Ethia glanced around the large dark coven, with evident disdain and condescension. Animal hides hung, from the ceiling at the far corner of the room. Beads and shells, were scattered all over the greasy floor in the center. And at the left side, a makeshift fireplace burned faintly. Its wood was already smoldering out and there was no sign of a replacement heap. The queen mother shook her head, in a knowing disgust. Even the witch’s coven, though crowded and filled with its own rubbish. Was much more organized and bearable. The whole space, looked like its upkeep had been abandoned. While its use was still frequent and relevant.
“That regal fabric and distinct shawl, tells me that I have a royal guest.” The wizard announced, as he walked into the room. Then he began to cough uncontrollably. For a few seconds, before eventually looking up again at his guest. “Can’t you do something about that cough, you fool?” Ethia snapped, the look of revulsion on her face almost palpable. "I don’t wish to acquire, more than the information for which I came.” She warned tersely and disparagingly.
“But of course it is you Ethia,” responded the wizard. He was standing slightly hunched, as if he would fall forward at the slightest nudge.
He continued to make sure, that his taunt matched that of his visitor. “If the elegant and queenly attire, could not identify you. Then your signature barb and insults, sure did.” He concluded, while glancing around the room for his stool. “Very insightful and impressive for a wizard.” The royal woman began to speak again. “Yet I can still see, that such knowledge has done little or nothing for you.”
She looked around the room again, in distaste. Waving her right hand, in a semi-circled motion. Her host only bared some teeth and said nothing as he watched her.
“And one more thing, before I continue with the real reason for my visit.” Ethia declared sternly, eyeing her host pointedly. “I will ask that you respect my office, when you address me.” “Which office are we talking about now?” Interjected the man in derision and mock interest. “The office of witchcraft, impostor or stolen royalty?” He finished, the grin having left his face.
“Hahaha,” Ethia laughed sardonically. “Do you really want to do this here and now?” They both knew the question was rhetorical, as she continued. “Witchery is my craft and weapon, impostor is my position and royalty is the platform and authority, through which I can exercise the former two. Now does that sink into that dense head of yours, or has age made you even dafter?”
“You insult yourself woman. You say you have come for, or are in need of some information. And you seek it from a fool. Yours is the greater foolery, or don’t you think so?” He began to cough again, heaving and grasping for air this time.
“Before you die,” interrupted the queen mother. “What is it of mine, that you have? I have come for it.” “You are a witch also,” responded the man. “You should be able to tell, who has anything that belongs to you.” He mocked, hating the very sight and presence of her. “Here we go again,” proclaimed the royal. Shaking her head in exaggerated disappointment.
“It appears, that I must school you all over again. Well here goes; Darkness may diligently search, steal information and conduct surveillance. For the purposes of shrouding and/or disrupting light. But it does not and cannot know or see everything. Some knowledge can be and has been blocked and restricted. To protect light and somewhat penetrate darkness. Preserving Truth to prevail for greater good.” The man began to laugh amidst fits of coughing. “So you knew all of this and yet you still came to me for information? Now pray tell me, which one of us could be denser?” “Shush, you degenerating fool! I have no time to waste,” Ethia shouted. “You have in your possession, something of mine. It belongs to me and I have come to take it back! My very blood cries out from this despicable pit.”
“If I ever saw anything that pertained to you Ethia, I would burn it.” Declared the wizard with obvious assertion. He grit his teeth and glared at the woman, as his body shook in pain-filled memory. “I take that as a challenge then,” snarled the now indignant royal. Her shawl and outer robe, instantly dropping to the coven floor. The wizard took one look, at the large and long serpent. The reptile was coiled on the floor, its head raised and already poised for attack. Then he lifted his two arms and flapped it four times. But for the softly sputtering flames in the background, the room was quiet as the snake and the bat glared at each other.