by RP Halliway
“It could fit the character of the whole experience,” she said, shrugging her shoulders.
After a minute to calm down, Silas and Evie resumed the browsing in the market. The blacksmith displayed many different articles, but Silas missed the opportunity to watch the construction process. Continuing on, Evie and Silas spied a small group of six people enter the market and head straight into the Centaur’s Stable.
“That’s interesting,” she said, watching the last visitor enter the door.
“Very. Regulars perhaps?”
“Maybe,” Evie replied, continuing their journey from shop to shop.
The shop immediately before the Centaur’s Stable contained a few shelves of what appeared to be hand-crafted books. The female proprietor smiled brightly as Evie approached.
“Looking for something?” the proprietor asked, in a soft gentle French accent.
“Nothing in particular,” Evie replied to her. “Just admiring the handiwork.”
The proprietor picked a particular book from a shelf and handed to Evie. Evie looked at the engraved cover before opening the book gently.
“Mythology.”
“Very interesting,” Evie said, glancing at a few pages. “How much?”
The proprietor sized up Silas and Evie. “Forty dollars.”
Evie closed the book up. “Too much for me. Do you have anything on fairy tales?”
“Mythology is better than fairy tales,” the proprietor replied with a friendly smile. “It is worth forty, but I will take twenty.”
Evie made another move to hand the book back, but Silas stepped in, offering a twenty euro bill to the lady.
“Thanks,” she said, taking the money to complete the transaction. “Enjoy the reading.”
“You didn’t have to,” Evie said, but smiled up at Silas.
They moved to the next shop, The Centaur’s Stable, and instead of being an open air shop like the others, all of the wares resided inside the building.
Silas slowly ran his hand down the brightly colored door before he opened it and looked inside. Rows of shelves lined the walls, with many different sized jars on each row. Silas couldn’t make out what the jars contained, but figured a mixture of herbs and other ‘home remedies’ would fit the ambiance.
Seeing a larger shop floor, with the previous shoppers still browsing around, he stepped inside and Evie followed. They approached the first row of shelves and examined the jars. His initial guess proved mostly correct.
“Ingredients for potions and such?” she asked.
He read some of the labels. “Seems more of a physical magicks shop, as Noel would say.”
“This definitely stays in the character of the entire Renaissance Fair theme.”
“I don’t think I would believe any of the labels here,” he joked quietly to her. “And I don’t think I would buy anything from here.”
She nodded silently, opening her newly acquired book and scanned a few pages. “There is a section on potions in here. I bet we could find several uses for these ingredients.”
“Nice,” Silas said, still looking around, but not really interested in the jars that much anymore.
Silas counted the six shoppers, himself, and Evie as the only ones in the area, not noticing the shopkeeper among them.
“Have you seen the shopkeeper?” he asked, as they scanned the little shop.
“No, actually,” she said, now focusing on looking for anyone that would resemble an owner.
“That’s too bad. I was hoping that Roger’s contact would be here.”
Evie nodded, still looking through the book, trying to locate a matching ingredient to any potion recipe.
After a few moments, one of the six shoppers picked out a jar from a shelf and started looking around for someone to complete the purchase. Silas and Evie watched, waiting for someone to appear to assist, but as time went by, nobody appeared.
The customer grabbed a scrap of paper off of the counter, and wrote quickly on it. Rereading the message, and seemingly happy with the message, the customer slid the scrap to the middle of the counter, and walked out with the jar.
Shortly after, the rest of the group left.
“Did they just shoplift?” she asked him.
“I don’t know,” he said. Slowly he crept to the counter, intent on seeing what the scrawled message said. As he got over the counter, ready to try reading the message, a door behind the counter opened, making both Evie and Silas jump.
An old twiggy figure appeared. Silas guessed it was an old lady, only because of the long gray hair down her back. She appeared anywhere between sixty and ninety-years-old, maybe five feet tall on a good day, and weighing no more than eighty pounds dripping wet. She moved slowly toward the counter, almost sliding her form along the floor, rather than walking.
The woman slid to the counter and noticed the scrap. Nodding to herself, she took the scrap and put it in a small jar behind her, and then looked over at the shelf for the missing item.
It seemed almost as if she hadn’t noticed Evie and Silas standing there, and visibly jumped when Silas made a small wave to her.
“Hello,” Silas said, trying to be friendly.
“Hmmph,” the old woman replied, scanning Silas and Evie.
“Hi,” Evie echoed with a friendly smile. “This is a very nice shop.”
The old woman nodded slightly in Evie’s direction, but made no move to engage.
Evie moved forward with a spark of inspiration. “Is this a good book?” she asked the old woman, presenting the book from the shop next door.
The woman looked up at her, almost looking bored, then looked at the presented book.
The bony hands reached out and took the book from Evie. Evie shot Silas a concerned look.
The woman paged quickly through the book. The pages flipped back and forth, as the old woman seemed to be looking for something in particular.
“Tourist,” the old woman said, tossing the book in Evie’s direction, but intentionally throwing it on the floor. The book landed with a solid thud, and Evie shot an angry look at the old woman before bending over to pick up her possession.
The door opened again, and an equally old man appeared. He had a smooth top to his bony head, with a ring of gray wispy hair falling just over the middle of his ears.
The man was dressed in dark colored robes, with wide sleeve openings at the wrist, allowing his bony arms to be exposed as he placed his hands on the counter.
Evie cleared the dirt and dust from the floor off of the book, still quite angry at the old woman.
“Problem?” the man asked, almost looking angrily toward Silas, a very thick accent apparent, but definitely not French.
“No,” Silas said, thinking that was the better answer. “We were just browsing.”
“What’s wrong with my book?” Evie asked.
“Tourist,” the woman repeated, pointing to the book.
“That isn’t a good book,” the man translated to Evie. Silas figured the old man’s accent to be very Eastern Europe or maybe Russian.
“Why not?” Evie asked, making an effort to calm down.
“Let see.” The old man held out his bony hands.
Evie cautiously approached the counter, and slowly offered the book to the man.
The man took the book and rapidly started paging through it, mimicking the steps of the old woman.
“Fake,” the old man said after scanning only a few pages and handed the book back to Evie.
“How do you know?” Evie asked, both curious and a little perturbed at the quick declaration.
The man looked at the old woman and then tilted his head at Evie, as if to say, ‘I’m 1000 years old! That’s how I know.’
The woman slid behind him and disappeared back through the door.
“Come.” The
man motioned to Evie, and started walking slowly after the woman. Evie shot Silas a worrisome look, wondering if she would get her book back. They followed the old couple through the door.
The woman stood against a wall, busying herself with odd tasks, while the man walked to a large chair behind a desk. He sidled up against the chair—bigger, height and weight-wise than the old man—and pushed himself up to sit in it, facing Silas and Evie.
They followed into the room and noticed the stacks of books on the old man’s desk. Many looked quite old, and many more were piled haphazardly all over the room.
“History changes,” the old man said, offering Evie back her book. “Fake books all over.”
Evie took the book and looked around the room, noticing the wall behind them contained shelves, also mostly filled with books. For an unknown reason, a singular book on the shelf caught her eye. Stepping towards it—keeping the woman in her peripheral vision—she froze, completely stunned.
“Real book,” the man said, nodding to Evie.
Evie read the cover of the book Silas bought for her, and then compared the cover of the book on the shelf.
“Take,” the old woman said, not looking up.
Evie handed Silas her fake book, and took the real book from the shelf. The exteriors seemed identical, but the real book had a heft and weight the fake book lacked. She paged through the book cautiously, reading several passages. The book contained much more detail and also seemed to speak directly to her.
“Maybe this is what Roger was talking about,” Evie said to Silas. “This book seems quite special.”
“Roger?” the old woman echoed, turning and cocking her head to look at Silas and Evie.
“Roger told us to visit the Centaur’s Stable,” Silas said slowly, not sure if their age or the accent made him to speak in that manner.
“Roger,” the man echoed nodding to the old woman.
The woman moved from the corner, and now that Silas could see her feet, he smiled slightly, thinking of The Addams Family’s Morticia.
The old woman slid next to Evie and sized her up. Evie had a few inches on the old woman, and definitely more muscle mass, but still felt nervous. The woman extended a bony finger to Evie’s neck, and then slowly traced the finger down Evie, between her breasts, and stopping at her belly, before retracting the finger.
The woman turned to Silas and performed the same ritual. Straining to reach his neck, the woman slowly traced the bony finger down his sternum to his belly.
“Sad,” the woman said, looking at the old man and shaking her head.
“You come from Roger?” the old man asked, still in a heavy accent.
“Yes,” Silas answered, slowly stepping back slightly from the old woman in case she tried something else. “He said something about mythology and the multiverse.”
“Multiverse,” the old woman echoed, slowly gliding back to her previous spot near the corner.
“Yes,” Evie replied. “We have been following a winding path trying to figure out why we had similar dreams.”
“Both?” the man asked.
“Yes, we both had the same dreams,” Evie answered, a little more nervous now.
“Explain,” the old man replied, seeming to sort through a pile of books, looking for something.
“The first dream was at an archaeological dig, and an artifact was discovered. In Greece,” Evie said. “And the second dream was a university lab on reclaimed memories.”
“Scary?” the old man asked, grabbing what looked like pen and making a few rapid scratches on a pad. Silas tried to see what he was writing, but couldn’t make anything out.
“No,” Evie answered, still a bit nervous. “Nothing scary.”
“We first found the university lab, and we just came from the dig in Greece,” Silas said, thinking that the man was writing down important things.
The old woman cocked her head at Silas. “True?”
“Yes,” Silas answered, guessing as to the interpretation of her question, “they both came true.”
The old man looked up at the woman, and they shared a nod.
The woman came back, and waved her bony hands slowly around Evie’s head, and stepped up to Silas. Seeing that there was no physical contact this time, Silas bent down slightly to let her do the hand waving. When she finished, she gave a slow shake of her head to the old man. The man jotted down more notes with the pen, making a slightly unnerving scratching from whatever tip the pen had. Then he took out another small book and compared whatever the scratchings were on the paper to the book, and made a final tally of sorts.
“Three, Six, Eighteen, C,” the old man read from the book and paper.
And without a word, the old woman exited the room.
“What is going on?” Silas asked, breaking the strange silence.
“You are polluted,” the old man said.
“Polluted?” Evie said, a bit unnerved.
“Your powers are polluted,” the old man repeated.
“Powers?” Silas asked, confused by the statement, looking to Evie.
“Ears okay?” the old man asked the two, getting off the chair with a slight ‘thump’ as his feet hit the ground.
“We hear fine,” Silas answered. Hearing wasn’t the problem.
“Good,” the old man said, walking over to a large book, almost half his size. His bony hands grabbed the book, and he grunted slightly trying to lift the tome, to little effect. Then he gave a slightly embarrassed look to Silas, with a twist of his head toward the book.
Silas understood, walked over to the book and lifted it up.
The old man walked over to the desk and pushed a few books out of the way, causing many more to fall off the cluttered surface and pointed. “Here.”
Silas placed the book as instructed, and stepped back.
The old man struggled slightly to lift the heavy front cover of the large book, and soon managed to find the correct place in the book. He motioned to Evie and Silas to join him.
The pages showed an array of people, planets and much of nature, and also a series of mythical creatures all seemingly interacting. The scene felt peaceful, rather than the typical violent struggle portrayed in fairy tales.
“This is the natural state of all beings,” the old man said, starting to speak more than single words. Silas failed at hiding a small laugh.
“Funny?” The old man asked, sternly.
“No! Sorry,” Silas apologized, the laughter passing. “I wasn’t expecting that full sentence.” Silas smiled to the man as his face grew warm. Evie elbowed Silas in the ribs for embarrassing her.
“You think I am dumb?” The old man asked Silas, not seeing the humor.
“Not at all,” Silas answered, his face growing hot again.
“Good.” The man returned to the pages of the book.
“The natural state,” The man said. He pointed a bony finger to several of the seemingly connected beings. “In it, everyone can connect to everyone else in the cosmic realm. Pollution stops up the connection.”
“What kind of pollution?” Evie asked, not sure how it fit with the picture in the book.
The old man waved his hands all around him, “Distractions! Phone, TV, work, family. No peace, no connection,” He continued. “Air, water, noise, food, all chemicals now. Not natural—pollutions. All these close the connection. Cosmos connections need to be very pure.”
“Yikes,” Silas said. “I guess I’m terrible polluted.”
“Me too,” Evie said. She was around computers all the time.
“Who is pure then?” Silas asked.
“You read Fairy tales?” The old man asked Silas.
“Sure, when I was younger,” Silas said, giving a shrug to Evie.
“Snow White, Cinderella, Rapunzel, Little Red. All pure. Connected to everything.”
>
“Those are Fairy Tales,” Evie said. They weren’t real stories, even though she cherished the memories of her parents reading to her from that book.
“Are they?” the man asked, lifting his bony finger toward Evie’s face. “Why are they written?” He smiled widely, with a crooked grin.
“Because children are pure?” Silas asked, catching the meaning.
“Not pure,” the old man said, with shake of his head. “Just not as polluted.”
“Timmy!” Silas said.
Evie nodded, understanding the reference.
“And getting the pollution out can help with the connection? Like vision quests and other purification rituals can improve that connection.” It was like their talk with Postice.
“Yes.”
As Silas and Evie studied the book with the old man, the old woman slid back in, carrying a few jars. The old man took the jars slowly and placed them on the desk. “These are for cleansing. Help with your purifying.” He put a bony finger on each of the small jars one by one.
Silas shot Evie a somewhat nervous look, and raised an eyebrow. What were they in for now?
“Potions to reset your connections,” the old man said, pointing back to the large picture in the book.
“And then we’ll be able to connect to nature?” Evie asked.
“In time.”
“Wow,” Evie said. “I’ve always wanted to talk to faeries.”
“No!” the old woman said with a scowl. “Faeries evil!”
“Connect with the good cosmos first,” the old man told Silas and Evie.
“Faeries exist?” Silas asked, looking at both the old man and old woman.
“Yes!” the old woman exclaimed, giving a very serious glare at Silas. “Evil!”
“All creatures exist,” the old man said. “Most are . . .” The old man struggled to find the right word.
“Stuck!” a female voice from behind them said. “At least if they are in this world.”
Chapter 23
Silas and Evie jumped at the voice and spun around. They recognized the bookkeeper from the shop next door.
“Oh, hi, it’s you,” Evie said, and then she remembered that this woman had sold her a fake book.