Chapter 7- At the fairs


She is certain Master knows that Wizard ended up healing himself, and he doesn't say anything about it, but every once in a while he gives her a knowing glance that withers her guts with guilt.

The matter is dropped from conversations around the castle; its residents mention it only once.

Soon, weeks later, word comes from a visiting associate of Master's: there is a festival of magic in a certain seaside town during the last days of summer, and would they care to stay at his manor?

Witch takes it upon herself to save every last coin for the occasion. There are fairs in the town they live in, but they are always small, only for boring things like wool or cows or events like a hanging.

She counts down the days until their departure, during the last wheeze of summer's perfect golden days and warm humid nights, and runs her fingers over the cool heavy metal of her stored pocket money, looks at the perfect little profile of the king with his coat-of-arms on each one.

Wizard does not want to go, and has more or less cemented his poker face in place. As if she would expect any less. He does not want to stay with Master's friend, or buy things at the fair, or watch plays or even attend the special magic classes they offer at night when the magic community comes out of hiding.

Twice he said that he had a bad feeling, and was having dreams about the fair, but she cleanly overlooks those comments in favour of her own plans. What a stubborn fool.

Witch finds it rather shameless and distasteful, how he makes up ridiculous prophecies to lord over her, and as such, never listens to his infantile babblings. He's probably only upset over the recent burning of a troupe of witches who made a misstep in the capital city. The King had sent warnings out all over the country to look out for witches. It doesn't deter her at all. She won't be one of the casualties, won't ever be so careless as to give herself away

On the much-anticipated day, they teleport very early in the morning to an empty field in the middle of nowhere with only a horse and cart to carry them there.

The pitted roads are muddy from recent rain. The cart jounces along in the mud, and she dangles her legs over the side, even though it jostles her stomach and splashes filth on the hem of her dress.

The little witch has developed a taste for the squalid excitement of a fest.

Oh, she loves the immensity of it all, the shrieking of the caged roosters with their beautiful black-green plumage and scarlet faces, the slow plodding horses, the vendors selling roast swallows (three for a penny!), the roaming puppeteers that showed tales of wandering Jesus and of miracles and angels. Though it is a magic festival come sunset, it looks much the same as the ordinary fairs of her home on a far grander scale.

A man with crooked yellow teeth tries to sell bright jewelled combs and pretty things to passing noble ladies who ignore him briskly. Even she, at a distance, can tell that the gems are false. Dogs and pigs traverse the flowing crowd like regular members of this rowdy society. Men slurp ale and flip engraved knives around. The drunkest of them all pay no mind to their sopping feet, having stepped through the fetid sewer-ditches that run along the sides of the tall houses.

Fresh fruit is arranged on tables, peddled from the back of a broken-down old wagon. A goat cries and startles a goose that soon resumes its placid pecking at the ground.

Every kind of waste stagnates in puddles and ditches and its collective reek mingles with that of old fish and the scent of the sea.

Everywhere, fish. Whatever can be found and eaten in the sea is for sale.

A very loud young man wants to rally a party to go falconing in a nearby wood. Money is tossed about, animals are exchanged, plays are watched.

There is a kind of peace in the busyness of the fairs, the comfort of being totally alone and anonymous, a rare, unique creature among a seething crowd of fest-goers.

Master has gone to meet in the Magicians' Guild hall with the rest of his comrades and Wizard simply refuses to leave the wagon, cowering like a dog.

She buys a meat pie for a halfpence and stands near a particular display of imports. Some of the peddler's fingers appear lopped off.

There is a withered shapeless dusty thing he calls an apricot (claimed to hail from hot, exotic desert lands) a few satchels of powdered and whole spices, (for the making of a perennial feast favourite, spiced wine) a collection of smooth murky green rocks, a couple bizarre-looking dried fish, leathery and brown. But mostly he hawks great clumps of unwashed, greasy-looking wool.

She leaves to go down to the river and sticks her toes in the tumbling, freezing water. A cloud of gnats descends almost immediately, gravitating toward her sweat.

A turnip, pale as a dead fish and only visible for a second in the brown and shadowy effluent, dashes past. In the distance are acres of fields, black and rich in the fresh sunshine.

The actual beach is still a ways away, but the witch-in-training can see it distantly, a brushstroke of deep blue on the horizon.

She remembers that her mother used to like the sea, but though it doesn't seem that she has spent all that long in the care of Master, time is already starting to rob her of her mother's face, now only an outline and a pair of odd golden eyes in her memory. As the young magician watches the sun set, she remembers that not too long ago, she was absolutely sure she'd be able to return to her mother after her training. Grow crops with magic, clean the house, make life easier on her with her skills. Maybe even find a cure for her sickness. She wonders if she's still okay for a brief second, and turns away to head back to the town, where most merchants have already packed their things and long since left.

The real fair is almost underway.


I got really... flowery when I wrote this chapter :/

Okay, so here is my inexcusably long author's note. Sorry, but I got stuff to say. Also, updates will be less frequent because of the resumption of school.

I would really appreciate it if you understood that in the approximate time period that I am attempting to depict thus far in this (probably exhaustively long) tale, religion is a huge part of daily life.

This is for historical consistency. I will present these themes in as neutral a manner as I can, so please don't get all upset at my mentioning them a few times.

And another wait. I took some time to think and realised that I totally veered off the path I had planned to take initially. The summary doesn't match the first segment at all. It makes it seem as if it is all told by Wizard (which I had intended), but as of now it seems that the main character is actually Witch.

Maybe that's how it'll be. I'll make more use of him in the future, for sure.

Or should I just transition later into Wizard's voice?

Thanks for your advice and support, as always!