Madge's Musings 24th Day of Advent

 'The Winter festival is nearly upon us and the Guardian had a meeting outside the Citadel to remind us of the rules this year. No magic was top of the list but he managed to bang on about everyone taking responsibility. Not sure what for mind you, some folk haven't got an idea what it means, some don't care and the rest of us is getting on as best as we can.

I hovered around the fringes, keeping me eye open for them as wanted my services. I sold a few potions and got a few orders so not a wasted day. Myra Button wanted me to look at her grandson. Scrawny thing he is. They've always had trouble birthing boys. The girls arrive pink and plump and bawling, the boys never seem to thrive. I gave her a couple of politices to slap on his chest and muttered a few reviving words over him. Bugger this 'no magic' thing, that little mite needed some help. He may rally, who knows.

I'm off for a few beers in the local tavern tonight. Some singing too if we're lucky. There are some fine minstrels in Lunecaster this year and I hope to hear them. We don't have much music round my way but the festival usually brings out the best entertainment. 

I hope we see some fireworks tomorrow, even if they'll miss the usual magical touch. Although I may throw in a spell under my breath. No promises mind, I'm a law abiding old woman.' 

Madge's Musings 22nd Day of Advent

 'After much less beer and much more sleep I think I may have sorted out what Cecile's story is.

The Strigid were some of the first dwellers in Grimwise Forest. Unlike others they didn't live in cottages or caverns dug into the earth. They lived in the trees themselves, in the canopy or within the trunks of the older trees. They shared the wood using gentle spells, the sort that leaves the living being unharmed. It's some of the most ancient magic and some of the hardest to do. Always easier to bend someone or something to your will by force rather than consent. But the Strigid women are very good at ancient magic so they were able to make a home in community with the forest. 

This made them very popular with the trees but less so with some of the other inhabitants of the forest. Folk always seem to fear what they don't understand. Like the way the Guardian has banned magic, coz he don't understand it see. Never will properly, being a man and all. Anyway, the Strigid were viewed as strange or other and left alone mostly. Only trouble was the stories that folk told about them made them out to be dangerous. So whenever something bad happened in Grimwise the Strigid were likely to be blamed. Superstitious nonsense but often powerful nonsense.

Recently the new Dark Lord, him what rules over Grimwise, started rumours that the Strigid were plotting against everyone in the forest, stirring up nature against them. How daft. But sometimes folk will believe any old rubbish if they're scared enough. Cecile told me that there is a lot of fear in Grimwise since the rise of Warin. He's the new Dark Lord. She said he's cruel, rules through fear. All the gentle folk are scared that he'll turn on them. They are withdrawing, hiding in the darkest parts of the forest and staying out of Warin's way. Easier said than done in my experience. If the powers that be want to find you they usually have ways of doing so.

So Cecile was tending one of the trees, the one her family lived in. They need gentle words and spells regularly. And they need special herbs watered onto their roots. Cecile was watering when some of Warin's men came. She didn't hear them, so engrossed in her work. They started to mock her, teasing at first. Nothing she hadn't heard before. Then it got darker, threatening and she was scared. She tried to make her way round the tree so she could slip through the secret door but the men followed, circling round the tree and stopping her escape. She managed to slip away but they began to chase her. She crashed through the trees, hearing them moan as she did so. This hurt her. Not physically but in her heart. The Strigid women have a deep bond with the trees and Cecile was saddened by the damage she did to them.

She managed to find the edge of the forest, ran out into the light and fled across the Great Plain. She ran towards the walls of Lunecaster, slipping past a dozing guard. And the first person she bumped into was Sassy who gathered her up and then she ended up at my place. She saw something in me which told her I might be the person to turn to. The attraction of magic I guess. So we've formed a little bond of our own and I need to decide what we should do next. I'm worried that what's going on in Grimwise might be more serious than just tormenting some gentle souls.'

Madge's Musings 21st Day of Advent

 'We saw in the Solstice sitting on Granny's tartan blanket in the shadow of the city walls. I packed a picnic, lots of cake, beer and cordial and we watched as the watery sun rose and then vanished behind a cloud. Standard Solstice stuff really. Before the rain started Cecile told me a bit about herself and how she came to be hunted.

Turns out she's a Strigid. No, me neither. But she explained that her people lived in Grimwise Forest before the new Dark Lord arrived. They were some of the original forest dwellers, living in the trunks of trees and digging in the soft earth. For thousands of years they lived in harmony with the other forest folk and ... well I confess I dropped off at that stage so I missed the whole history of the Strigid. But it turns out that some people thought the Strigid brought bad omens. They wanted to drive them out of the forest but the Strigid were strong and cunning. Now the new Dark Lord had revived the old superstitions and Cecile had been seen too close to some dwelling and was chased.

I'm not explaining this very well, am I? Turns out the Strigid take longer to tell a tale than the Vikings. I got the gist of it, which is that Cecile's people are considered unlucky and if anyone catches sight of one of them they raise the alarm. So she was hunted out of Grimwise and is now hiding with me. Not sure what that makes me but I bet it ain't good.

We returned just before the heavens opened and Cecile went upstairs for a lie down. I headed for the workshop to consult Mother's notebooks. She knew a lot about the people of Astara so there may be something about the Strigid. Cecile might need an advocate when she talks to the Guardian about staying.'

Madge's Musings 20th Day of Advent

 'One of the downsides of being old is the insomnia. Bloody annoying it is. Now I can nap like a good 'un, close me eyes and I'm away. But at night, in me nightie under lavender rinsed sheets and mountain weight blankets I only manage a few hours and then I'm awake again, mind racing away. So I usually get up, make tea and spent a while thinking up new potions or salves. Good time for a rifle through Mother's notebooks too.

So last night it was normal for me to be fumbling under the bed for me slippers and cursing. I wrapped a blanket round me shoulders and headed for the kitchen. No sooner I've got the kettle on than there's a tapping at the window. I pull the curtain and there's those moon-like eyes and fringe out in the yard. Made me gasp she did but she was so still that there was nothing threatening so I lets her in. This time she agreed to a weak tea, as it's chilly out, and I cut two slices of cake just in case.

The fire was poked into life and we sat on opposite sides of the table and sipped tea. She licked her lips between sips like before and nibbled the cake. I let her settle and watched. Eventually she stopped sipping and sat in silence. I took this to be my cue.

'So, Cecile, what brings you back here in the middle of the night?'

I waited as she seemed to arrange her thoughts before speaking. Everything about her was slow and still. Not like most folk I comes into contact with so it was a refreshing change to wait quietly until she was ready to speak.

'I have need of shelter. I sensed kindness from you today so when I needed somewhere to go I thought of you. I am hunted you see. May I stay?'

She gazed at me, her eyes full of pleading and fear. I have seen fear before, anyone who remembers the Great Mage Wars does. But this was something different, something raw and animal. This girl was scared for her life, really scared.

What could I say? I made up a spare bed, made more tea and she's sleeping upstairs now as I sit and wonder who could possibly be hunting a child like Cecile. Tomorrow is Solstice. I hope the changing of times will bring some clarity.'

Madge's Musings 19th Day of Advent

 'Of course it was Sassy banging on the door. Come to let me know what she'd found out. Bought a friend with her, a tall slender girl called Cecile with moon-like eyes peering out from under her fringe. Didn't say a word and wouldn't have tea or beer. Finally got her to take a glass of cordial which she sipped, licking her lips between sips. Odd soul but harmless.

Sassy said that she'd heard from Harold that some more spies were being sent to Grimwise in the next days. Harold's brother, possibly called Addy, was volunteering to go. I snorted and told her what I thought of people who volunteered.

'Biggest bunch of fools ever birthed! Never volunteer fro anything, that's my advice. Only leads to trouble.'

Sassy wittered on for a bit while Cecile sipped and licked. I almost forgot she was there, blending into the shadows. If it weren't for the smell of the cordial she'd have vanished altogether.

I eventually got Sassy to stop talking, promised to visit with some potions next market day and ushered her to the door. As she pinned her second best hat on, feathers still drooping from the rain, Cecile plucked at my sleeve. Her voice was no louder than a whisper but thick and husky.

'Thank you for the cordial, missus. Most kind. I hope we meet again.'

They slipped out into the rain and the door swung closed. I was alone again with my own thoughts. Yet it was as if Cecile had never left. Her presence hovered in the shadows all evening until I closed the door and went to bed.'

Madge's Musings 18th Day of Advent

 'It's been tipping it down today so I've spent the time catching up on brewing and knitting. I think I've been sold some goat wool, it's rough as a badger's arse and don't knit well. If I could remember where I got it I'd go round there and box some ears. I'm not unpicking it, I'll turn it into a blanket and someone can have it for a present.

I occurs to me that I've been rabbiting on as if you know everything about Lunecaster when you might never have been here so I'll fill you in about my home. The Guardian, currently Randall, is in charge of things. They levy taxes, work out how the money gets spent, decide when we go to war. They're also in charge of all the rites and rituals of the city and it's their duty to celebrate all the festivals at the right times and with the right clobber on. The Elders assist in the rites, they're the holders of the sacred parchments and texts. They study the old scrolls and some of them do a bit of prophesy and divination on the side. The storytellers are the keepers of the old tales and stories, they take note of events and spin them into stories that tell the history of our city and land. Some of them can go into trances and use what they see there to clarify or explain. Edmund is the most gifted storyteller of his generation and can go into deep trances. I've heard that he once had a three day trance and woke up so hungry he tried to eat the scroll on his desk. I can relate to that, I've had naps that have left me starving. Not for dried up old scrolls though, tea and toast for me.

Lunecaster is a walled city and hasn't been taken by enemies for so long no-one is alive who saw that. The guard are charged with patrolling the walls and maintaining the gates, four of those at the four compass points. My brother Gilbert started his career in the guards on the West Gate, opening and closing it morning and night and standing to attention when the bigwigs arrived. He's moved into the barracks now and can have a bit of a lie in of a morning.

Across the Great Plain is Grimwise Forest. It's a dark, strange place and us city dwellers don't go there unless we have to. I sometimes forage on the edge but as soon as I gets too far in things get cold and eerie so I stay on the fringes. There's a new Dark Lord there, name of Warin. Don't know much about him but rumour is that he's more brutal than the last Dark Lord and he were a bugger and no mistake.

There's the mountains and the coast too but I'll tell you about them another time. Someone's knocking on the door so duty calls.'

Madge's Musings 17th Day of Advent

 'Change is a good thing most of the time, ain't it? At least that's what folk keep telling me. I must admit that when I change a potion and gives it more flavour people seem to like it. Maybe not the extra I charge for the new one though. I always like to check out anything new that pops up in the city and sometimes I have to admit that the change has improved things. But not all changes are good.

When the old Guardian stood down most people sighed and said about time too. He was getting on a bit, even from my perspective. His speeches were so rambling no-one could make 'ead nor tail of 'em. And he'd taken to wandering about at night wearing nowt but a robe and a silly grin. Poor old soul was deserving of his retirement. The city deserved it too, in my opinion. A new broom, we all said, needs to sweep through the Citadel and shake stuff up. Well, that's certainly happened and I'm not sure it's made things much better.

For many weeks the Elders debated who would make the best Guardian. I heard that their 'debates' were mainly arguments but so many of them are in my experience. In the end there were two candidates left. One was Theobald, one of the Elders who had been living in the Citadel for more years than anyone could remember. Truth is, he was much older than anyone else in the Citadel so no-one knew for sure how long it had been. I remember Mother mentioning doing business with him so he is certainly the oldest person I know living in Lunecaster. Everyone I spoke to couldn't see the wisdom in replacing one old fool with an even older one. As luck would have it the other candidate was Randall who I think I told you was a childhood friend of Edmund the storyteller. 

After a public vote Edmund was elected. The citizens loved his fresh young energy and the passionate way he promised that Lunecaster would never be second best. The youths in particular loved that, they always want to feel superior. And since his election Randall has been changing things, improving most of them to give him his due. But, according to Edmund, he's not feeling very secure in his position. Apparently some reports came out of Grimwise that the new Dark Lord was planning to take advantage of the new Guardian's inexperience. Edmund told me that nothing more specific than that was in the reports but Randall felt threatened and sent spies into Grimwise to find out what was planned. Only a few managed to get reports back to the Citadel, most vanished without trace and at least one escaped and was killed in the attempt to get back to the city. That was the last straw for Randall and hence the ban on magic.

Don't make much sense to me. That magic was used over in Grimwise, no link to us in Lunecaster. But that's where we are so that's how it is. Edmund warned me that Randall was unpredictable and that I should keep my head down and just concentrate on mixing a few harmless potions and delivering babies.

Don't know me very well, do 'e?'

Madge's Musings 16th Day of Advent

 'That all took longer than I hoped it would. Good job I took a good picnic with me, nobody offered me as much as a crumb until I got in to see Edmund.

Now you probably don't know Edmund but I've known him for, gosh, most of his life actually. I was friendly with his mother. She was a basket weaver, very skilled and I went to her stall every time I needed a new pannier or a wrap for a potion bottle that was more top class than the usual ones. We got friendly, both enjoyed a bit of a gossip and swapped tales of who was courting whom and whose wife didn't know about it. So I got to know her and her family. She was very proud of her son who was apprenticed to the Storyteller's Guild. He was a very bright boy and she was right to be proud. He was a quiet lad but always a keen observer of everything around him. If you got him chatting he could spin a yarn from the smallest thing. He once told a story about a goose that was chased by a three legged dog that he saw in the Citadel Square, had all the stall holders in stitches. We knew he'd go far.

And he has. He's one of the city's best storytellers, a real genius at dream stories and interpretations. Just the sort of person who would know what was going on at the higher levels of the city. He's a childhood friend of the current Guardian so who knows what they chat about over beer.

It took a long time to get to see Edmund, I had to call in several favours and then send a message reminding him of my friendship with his mother. But once I was with him he was warm and friendly, we spent a few hours chatting and reliving some interesting times with his mother at the market.

What he told me was chilling and told in confidence so I must think long and hard about how much I can share. Grab a beer or gin if that's your thing and I'll let you know what I think's happening in Lunecaster.'

Madge's Musings 14th Day of Advent

 'I didn't sleep well last night. Combination of too much thinking and too much gin. But I did come to a decision. I need to go to Storyteller's Keep.

Now those of you who aren't native Lunecastarians might not know what Storyteller's Keep is. Or even what a storyteller is so I'll try to fill you in. In Astara stories are vey important, more important than they are in other places. I know that most of you will have told stories to your little 'uns and most of you will have had stories told to you when you were little. In Astara we do that too, tell entertaining and teaching stories to our children. The mountain folk tell tales of the mystery of trees and what to do if you get lost in a snow storm; the coast folk tell stories about how to caulk your keel and what to do if swallowed by a giant fish; us lowland folk tell stories about haunted forests and the dangers of falling in the river. So far, so normal, right?

But there's more to our stories than just telling you useful stuff and making you laugh or scared. They contain real hard truths, the sort that you need to make the world go round. They are solid things that keep the past where it belongs and warns the future not to try it on. The storytellers are the ones who listen to the stories, shape them and find their true form, they listen to dreams too and tell you what they really mean. Not the rubbish that those painted trolls in tents tell you neither. The gritty, smelly, unpleasant truth.

So whatever is going on in Grimwise Forest will already be known to the storytellers. It will be written in one of their books and will have been shared in the telling. Someone will have had a dream about it and may even now be pondering its meaning. And that's the person I need to find.

So I'm packing some food and drink and heading off for Storyteller's Keep. It can take a while to find the right storyteller and persuade them to let you in on there secrets so best to be prepared. I'll take a cushion too, their chairs can be a bit uncomfortable after the first hour. I may be well padded in the sitting area but there's no point suffering for someone else's art.'

Madge's Musings 13th Day of Advent

 'Remind me to mind my own business! Next time I wants to know the story behind the gossip that is. I've just spent the night answering daft questions in the barracks. Like I was a common criminal, if you please.

I'd just settled down for an after dinner nap when the door gets the sort of pounding that threatened to have it off its hinges. I levers myself out of the chair and before I've got it open more than a crack, two guards are pushing their way in and both shouting at me at once. My head swivels from one to t'other, no idea which one to answer first. They grabs me arms and I'm frog marched - why do they call it that?- out of the house, down the alley and towards the barracks. In me slippers and indoor shawl! Bloody cheek.

At the barracks some bloke with a weepy eye barks at them and we hustle up stairs, down stairs and I swear along the same corridor twice until I'm shoved in a room and left alone. Well, you can imagine how I felt. Chuffing mad I'll tell you. How would they like it if someone did that to their mother or granny. By the time someone came to talk to me I'd built up a right head of steam I can tell you.

You'll never guess who it was? The fella with the eye patch from the riverside tavern! Turns out he's one of the Guardian's spies, watching for 'undesirable elements'. Well, I know I'm past me prime but that's just plain rude. I told him he's no looker himself and he bangs his fists on the the table and glares at me. Now a lesser woman would've backed down at this point. He had a great glare, really menacing but I've been glared at by experts in the mountains so I just leaned back in me chair and asked if an old lady might have a cushion.

Storms out he does, yells at someone outside, comes back banging doors and stamping about. 

'What were you doing consorting with Crafty Nick?'

I snorted and told him my consorting days were over. He's not amused, tells me he's got all the time in the world and stomps out. So I sits there until someone brings a cushion - tatty, smelly old thing which I chucks on the floor - and I waits. Every now and then he pops back, barks more questions which I refuse to answer and storms out again. Loads of energy these guards, must be all the square bashing they do. At one point he takes the torches away and sneers 'see how you like the dark'. No problem. I leans back in the chair and has a doze. He really don't know much about old women.

Eventually some bloke in a fancy coat and polished boots arrives, sits opposite me and asks the same questions only more polite like. He's bought tea too so I guess he was properly raised. I tells him I was passing a message from Crafty Nick's mother, I'd never met him before nor likely to again and could I go home now coz I'm stiffening up in this bloody chair. He smiles the way a lizard doesn't, taps the table and nods. Before I know it I'm getting the bum's rush and am standing outside the barracks in me slippers. 

Thinking about it now, although I'm still steaming, they must have checked me out and found out I was a harmless old healer woken suddenly from a nap who didn't know anything she shouldn't. If only they knew. I've forgotten more than most of them will ever know and that's a fact.

More importantly, I think there must be something more going on than I imagined. And I hate not knowing. But first I need to lower these aching bones into a hot herbal bath and ruminate with a few large gins.'

Madge's Musings 11th Day of Advent

 'No matter how long you live in a place there are always parts of it that you don't know or that you hardly visit. For me it's the wharf and riverfront.

My life doesn't take me to the riverfront much. I've delivered a couple of babies there but mostly I don't have need to go there. The riverside wharf where the goods from the coast are landed is a very masculine place, full of ropes and barrels and lawlessness. Not to say there aren't women down there but they're very secretive types and don't mix much with the rest of us. Many a young man has lost his virginity and sometimes more to the wharf women.

So for me to venture down to one of the riverfront taverns is a new experience. But I know that the bloke I want to speak to will be here some time today so I'm prepared to take a bit of a risk. Still got me knitting needles in me backpack though. Can't be too careful.

As taverns go it's not as seedy as some of those near the barracks. Clean floor and tables, good beer and cheap food. I settled in for a long wait, lit a pipe and huddled into a corner. Tried to look inconspicuous too. Never been very good at that, takes up too much space to blend in quietly. Also, there was a darts match going on and one of the women serving was taking bets and well, I got a bit carried away. Several bets later I was unofficial substitute for the home team and throwing at a double to win the match. So much for staying in the shadows.

After we'd celebrated our win and the beer was flowing I leaned on the bar and winked at the serving woman. Luckily I wasn't her type so there were no misunderstandings and she sidled over. I've always wondered why they spend so long polishing the glasses and was in half a mind to ask but stayed focused. I asked her if she had seen Crafty Nick. She raised her eyebrows, looked across the bar and nodded. Lurching against a wall was a skinny bloke, eyepatch, stains on his jacket. She shook her head.

'Standing behind him, the dark man.'

A dark, shadowy figure was standing in the doorway, pipe clenched between his lips, scanning the room. He didn't look very crafty but he was the one I needed to see. I pushed my way across the bar, brushing off congratulations and thieving fingers until I was standing next to the skinny drunk. Crafty Nick looked at me. I looked at him.

'Right, I want a word with you, Nick.'

I grabbed his elbow and propelled him out of the door into a back yard where the beer barrels were kept.  

'I want to know about spying in Grimwise. Word has it you do business with them and you know your way round the barracks. So, what can you tell me?'

Crafty Nick is one of those silent types, think they're all mysterious because they don't say much. Luckily I know how to get them to talk. Usually at the point of a knitting needle. And I may have threatened to tell his mother where he was hanging out these days. Don't matter how big or how old a bloke is, he still don't want to disappoint his mother.

Nick was good enough to tell me about the Guardian's plot to infiltrate Grimwise, plant spies there and bring the Dark Lord down 'for the glory of Lunecaster' as Nick put it. Glory be buggered! Stupid plan if you asks me. They're not stupid in Grimwise neither and it seemed that they'd already seen right through it. According to Nick there were still several spies in Grimwise and they'd stopped sending reports back. He'd know, him and his mates were tasked with picking the messages up from secret locations along the river. I made Nick promise to visit his mother and he made me promise to play in the next darts match. He'd bet his mother's house on another win so I guess I'll have to keep that promise.

What worries me is that if there are spies in Grimwise and they ain't sending messages anymore, we'd best prepare for more bodies. And that's something I don't want to see.'

Madge's Musings 10th Day of Advent

 'Let me stick the kettle on and I'll tell you about my trip to the Infirmary. Very illuminating, if you're a bit morbid that is.

How do you like your tea? Black no sugar, you must be from a coastal family. Us lowland dwellers like our dairy. Father took eight sugars, said tea wasn't tea unless  he could stand his pencil up in it. Mother hated how he stirred tea with his pencil but you can't civilise a carver so he said. Now I like a good slosh of milk but nothing more than a nip of whisky extra. Medicinal you know.

So I popped in to the Infirmary this morning and found Daisy and Dilys doing the rounds. Busy as ever. They were grateful for the potions and fussed about making me tea and the like. Rather embarrassing but I put up with it, they're a little over the top. I've known them since school and they've always been like that. Matching outfits, walking around arm in arm, keeping each other's secrets. We weren't friends exactly, too different I guess. But they were harmless and we moved in similar circles. In fact I think at one time my brother was courting both of them, maybe at the same time. But they were never going to give up their friendship for something as silly as marriage so all their romances fizzled out eventually.

They were most concerned about the banning of magic for healing. None of us was totally sure that healing was covered by the ban, it's all so new, but they weren't prepared to take any chances. So they were putting a splint on the broken leg of a lad who'd fallen out of an apple tree fetching his sister's kite from the upper branches. The boy was very distressed but his mother was almost hysterical. My fingers itched to wave the incantations over his skinny leg and knit the bone together but I knew I shouldn't interfere.

We went to the nurses' room and over tea and plum duff they told me about when the victim from Grimwise was bought in. 

'No doubt they were magical wounds,' said Dilys

'His face were half gone, melted like candle wax. Only a lad too,' added Daisy.

'What was 'e doing there? Nothing for a young lad over there. I only go when there's special herbs I need. Spooks me out does Grimwise. Too dark and closed for my liking.'

Daisy plumped up her cushions, shuffled down and leaned over for a whisper.

'Word is he was a spy! Can you believe it, Madge, a real spy. Lenny who cleans the wards says the Guardian has been sending spies into Grimwise to find out more about this new Lord they've got. Can't remember his name but you know the one.'

'So, Lenny says that they found out who he was and chased him from the forest, blasting him with magic. Getting stronger and stronger until they caught him real good and he died. Some of the guards saw what was happening, they brought his body back. Terrible for his mother.'

'Do you know her?'

They shook their heads, Daisy wiped a tear away and Dilys patted her hand. I said my goodbyes and staggered home with the empty potion bottles and jars clinking in my backpack. I've got lots of orders for potions and a promise not to use magic until we all know the full details of this magic ban.

So my next mission is to find out who this lad was and what he was doing in Grimwise. And I think I know who to ask.'

Madge's Musings 9th Day of Advent

 'Well I guess you're back to hear what Sassy Talbot told me. I hope you take disappointment well because it isn't very exciting.

Now as I understand it this gossip came to Sassy from her brother Harold who heard it from his mate Bill who got it from goodness knows who in one of several taverns he visited over the last week. So you can judge how reliable it is, I'm reserving mine for another day.

So whoever the story came from in the first place was wandering on the outskirts of Grimwise Forest minding their own business when they saw a group come out of the forest. They were scary and had weapons and ... well you can guess the rest. There seems to have been another person there but Sassy was vague about that. This second person antagonised the Grimwise crowd and they attacked him, using magic at one point and the person telling the tale had to drag the ruined body back to Lunecaster where the guards took over and the Guardian banned magic.

Oh, I can't be bothered with anymore of this rubbish! Truth be told, Sassy didn't have a clue and she just wanted to be centre of attention for a while. It happens to women like her when the lustre wears off I've heard. But it did get my curiosity going so I wandered off to the dining room in the Citadel and did a bit of eavesdropping. Halfway through my second pie I overheard a group of Elders disgusting the new orders from the Guardian. He's hosting a delegation from Grimwise soon and the magic ban is partly to stop them using it when they're in Lunecaster. 

A couple of guards sat at the next table and while I was dabbing the cake crumbs off my shawl they talked about the terrible burns that had been inflicted on the victims of the attack. One of them said he'd never seen anything that awful and his mate said that it was hard to believe what they bought into the infirmary had once been a man. Put me right off ordering another slice of cake that did. 

I've got some friends in the infirmary so I think I'll pop over tomorrow with some poultices and potions for them. Who knows what we may chat about?

So I'd better get some herbs infusing and check my stocks of oil of lavender.'

Madge's Musings 8th Day of Advent

 'Let me shove this shopping away and I'll let you know what's been going on.

I bumped into Sassy Talbot at the market today. Quite a feat as I did three laps of the bread stall to avoid her. I think she doubled back behind the leather stand when I was catching my breath. Had lots to tell me, she said, so we popped into a nearby inn for a little snack and a chat. What's the difference between an inn and a tavern? The prices. At an inn they wipe the bottom of the pie dish and charge you for the privilege. But the beer is usually better and the tables less sticky and wobbly.

Her name ain't really Sassy, it's Judith. She changed it so she'd sound more, well, sassy I suppose. She always thought she was that little bit more special than me, especially when it came to fellas. One time both had our eye on the same chap, Derek the Digger, lovely muscles and a fine head of hair. Saw him last week near Storyteller's Keep. Both have headed south and rest somewhere behind his belt buckle now. Anyhow, Sassy started getting frisky with him when he was with me at the Harvest Dance. Reckoned she was more curvaceous, had an hour glass figure and more to offer in that way than I did. I popped to visit the WC and when I came back Derek, Sassy and my pint had vanished. Saw him next morning in her kitchen with a soppy grin on his face and her father's mug in his hand. Didn't last. And he had the cheek to come sniffing round me again. Gave him purple hair and a limp for his trouble, only one using magic.

Anyhow, over a three pie lunch - two savoury, one sweet - Sassy told me what her Harold had heard from Bill in the herb garden. Sounds dodgy but they're both gardeners and it's mulching time. She spent so long plucking at the sleeve of me cardie that she found the loose thread where I caught me sleeve on a bramble in Grimwise Forest doing a bit of foraging last month. Kept pulling and pulling until I had me elbow hanging out. Too far gone for darning which is why I found myself sitting here with a mug of gin, unravelling a perfectly serviceable cardigan and finding new rude names for Sassy Talbot.

And once I've finished all three I'll tell you what she said.'

Madge's Musings 7th Day of Advent

 'It's really weird me chatting away here and not knowing if anyone is out there listening. But as long as it don't mean I've lost me marbles I'll keep going for a bit longer.

Do you believe in the power of dreams? I don't usually hold with soothsayers, seers and the like but there may be something in it I guess. As long as you don't think that dreaming about numbers means you're going to get a sudden windfall or that spotting green hat means you'll meet a leprechaun. By the way, if you do meet a leprechaun and he invites you out to tea make sure you get separate bills. A friend of mine got stung for a huge bill when she didn't notice all his mates buying beer and expensive bar snacks while they chatted. Mind you she was trying to sell him the fishing rights on a river that doesn't exist at the time so she should've known better.

So, back to the dream. Last night I woke with cold feet and a dry mouth with the most vivid memory of a dream. I often have great dreams but not the sort that I remember for long after waking. This one was about several people getting ready to move from one home to another. They were packing stuff up, moving furniture and the like. There was an older woman who wanted to go with them but they kept putting her off. She gathered all her stuff in a bundle and followed them to a boat, one of those paddle steamer things but she couldn't get on. As the boat began to move she cursed it and chucked her bundle into the water. I woke up then but something about it seemed important. Maybe I forgot a piece of the story, maybe I remembered it wrong. But it's bothering me today and I'm finding it hard to focus on potions. So I've left the workshop and I'm trying to find that bloody pamphlet about dreams that I picked up on a trip into the mountains. But I did some clearing up some months ago and stuff ain't where I left it.

So, here I am, cross-legged and stiff on the floor with me lap full of papers and dust. It'll take me a few minutes to get going again. Then I'm off to the tavern for a few beers and a pipe. Fancy coming with me? Your round first, mind.' 

Madge's Musings 6th Day of Advent

 'How long are you expecting me to do this? I've got other things to get on with you know.

Well, if I must keep going ... Today's been a quiet day. Most taverns have closed and there ain't a market today so most folk spend the day with family. Not a tradition I hold with, not with my family anyway.

I'll tell you something about my family. We don't speak much these days. In fact I can't remember the last time I heard from any of them. Not that I'm much better at keeping in touch so I don't blame them. When Mother died the glue that kept us together peeled apart and we all went our own ways. Father fell into a dark place and none of us could reach him. One day he turned on me and sent me packing. I've been on my own ever since. Got a few friends but no-one really close.

I don't blame him for it, I was very much my mother's daughter and the magic had taken her. He couldn't stand to look at me and be reminded of her. So I left, or more accurately I was kicked out. My brothers stood aside and waited for the dust to settle. I'm not sure what happened next, I was out of the loop see. But when Father died they sold his workshop and that was the end of that.

I see Gilbert when I have occasion to go to the Citadel but apart from a greeting grunt we don't speak. I guess he still feels as Father did. Magic took Mother and I'm a witch so I must be partly to blame for her death.

Nonsense of course. If she hadn't gone to fight in the Great Mage War she'd never have been killed. Obvious. Also obvious, it wasn't nowt to do with me, a small child with no influence over anyone. But grief can make the sanest, kindest of men into a madman. 

Anyhow, that's all I've got to say about that now. Time for a cup of tea, a couple of slices of cake and a snooze before I work out what I have to do next week. So off you pop and leave an old woman in peace.'

Madge's Musings 5th Day of Advent

 'It's amazing what you can learn in a few hours down the local tavern over a beer or two. Someone always seems to know something interesting and if you're good at nodding and tutting you can get all the gossip and scandal. So I thought I'd pop me second best shawl on and listen in while supping a couple of Danny Light's better beers. You have to know that he waters the beer and know the name of the wench he doesn't want his mother to know he's been seeing before you get a decent pint.

Anyhow, it turns out that this magic ban is more serious than I thought. It's not the first time magic has been banned in Lunecaster. After the Great Mage Wars the Guardian banned magic from being used within the city walls. Some of the wounds that were inflicted were terrible. Or so I heard, I was only a girl when the Great Mage Wars were happening so I didn't see much. Mother told some tales when she'd had a beer that made me rather queasy but as I say I didn't see anything myself. Although magic wasn't allowed in the city everyone knew that some had to go on, for healing and the like, otherwise we'd have been patching folk up with bandages and poultices the old fashioned way. That was the old Guardian in them days. He knew that some magic was important and turned a blind eye to it. Some folk took liberties but mostly people were sensible. It was mainly fighting magic that was banned.The sort that made people's arms vanish or their heads shrink. Good job too, nasty stuff fighting magic.

This new Guardian, well he's very young and new to the position. He's banned all magic, no exceptions. Technically that means I'm not allowed to use magic when making my potions. Now no-one will suffer if the love potions stop working but there are more serious things than whether some young folk can get to snog the object of their affections. There are potions and spells that keep people healthy, keep the mad from hurting themselves, keep the dark thoughts away. Some of the old folk who lived through the Great Mage Wars need their little bit of magic to keep the nightmares away. And there's many a lass who's grateful for the soothing power of magic when her time comes and the baby's on the large side.

So all the talk at the tavern was about what we'd do if we couldn't use magic anymore. Danny Light spent a fortune on having the curse removed from his bar and he's worried that if magic stays banned someone who takes exception to his weak beer might curse it again. I'm more worried what will happen when I runs out of potions and need to brew again. Because if I can't use magic I've got no way to make some silver. And then who's going to put bread on my table?

Some of the more heated patrons at the tavern are thinking of going to the Citadel to petition the Guardian. Us old 'uns sucked our teeth - if we still had them - and cautioned against. Folk are getting twitchy and the Guardian isn't likely to welcome delegations. Some of the guards are a bit trigger happy too, too fond of a ruck as it happens. My brother among them. I kept quiet. If they knew I had a brother in the guard they'd want me to go see him. We don't speak see, not since Mother died and he sided with Father. 

I have a feeling things will heat up in the next few days. Lucky for me I've got a stack of herbs to dry and store. Keep me out of circulation until things calm down. Nothing as soothing as dubbing dried herbs between your hands. Maybe we should all try that rather than getting agitated.'

Madge's Musings 4th Day of Advent

 'Well, I managed to get all those pesky potions sorted. Thankfully they don't weigh too much, arms aren't as strong as they once was. Terrible thing about getting old, everything starts to give up on you. Not all at once. Not like a powerful curse. Just bit by bit, every day a little weaker, a little slower. Still, there are compensations. Never heard so much gossip as when the hair went greyer. Everyone wants to tell you every little bit of tittle tattle. If you knew what I know ...

Anyways, the fire's banked up, the tea's brewed and I've got me slippers on so I'll let you in on a secret.

Those love potions? Flavoured water most of 'em. Drop of blackberry syrup, touch of fennel juice, no-one's any the wiser. And I don't guarantee results so it's not my doing if they don't always work. Course I do pop a genuine one in each batch. Well, would you order from someone if there were never any results?

I don't believe in messing with stuff like that, love and the like but they're my best sellers. And if the plain daughter of the baker wants to waste her silver on the vain son of the builder, who am I to object? Although that one turned out to be a good one and he still don't know how he ended up married to her and her dreadful family. Buy your bread elsewhere I say, they put chalk in the flour. But she's as happy as can be, all puffed out with pride, three little 'uns and another on the way by the look of her. New bonnet last weekend too. I worry that he'll end up worn to a shadow though, dark marks under his eyes these days.

But, as I say, not my worry and that's a fact. I just give the people what they want.

Everyone said that it was a love potion that trapped Mother. Why else would a mountain girl with magical powers marry a carver without his own workshop? Well, the truth is it was just love, the true and pure sort. It did make folk wonder though. Mother was a real beauty, taller than most mountain women, golden hair and hazel eyes, slender in the waist and sweet natured until roused. Father couldn't help but fall for her he always said. She took his heart and wrapped it in her own. Father was a short man, like myself, and stocky in build like many carvers. A strong base for moving timber about he said. He could tell when a tree was ready just through touch, feeling the sap flowing under the bark. Knew just by looking at it what it would carve into as well. A real artist in his own way.

Between them they made a strong couple. Her magic and beauty, his strength and stability. Much better than if they had been matched by magic, they were matched by nature.

Now, if you don't mind I need a snooze. So off you pop. Take a potion with you, slip it to your beloved and see if it's a fizzer!'

Madge's Musings 3rd Day of Advent

 'Well that was bloody annoying. All that thinking about Aunt Bertha and now I'm behind with potion brewing. I'm supposed to have this batch of love potions ready by tomorrow so I'll be having a late night in the workshop.

I found Aunt Bertha's notebook after moving several boxes. Never had much organisation in the house so it took a while to find them but they were under a box of bottles I'd moved from my Father's after we parted ways. Anyway, once I'd found them I spent more time than I should have reading through and remembering.

That side of my family are, well my Father never got on with them so we didn't see them very often. Mother would take us to visit when the weather allowed but the mountain people were mysterious and therefore very attractive. I'm not sure if you know this but magical abilities are passed from mother to daughter so it was from my Mother's mountain family that I got my magical ability. When Mother left her family to marry Father she cut herself off from that life but she made sure that we knew where we came from. As her daughter I always knew the importance of the bloodline. My brothers were more interested in Father's family and the wood link. Father was a carver and had sap in his veins, which my brothers loved and wished they had his talent.

So, there I was rifling through Aunt Bertha's notebook and thinking about my visits to the mountains when I dozed off. I dreamed that I was visiting, I dreamed I tasted my Grandma's flat bread and Luka's fruit beer. It was a good dream. Except when I woke up my neck was stiff, my knees were locked and the fire had gone out. So I am behind with my work, I'm cranky and I have nothing to say to you. It's your fault for making me think of this stuff anyway.

Shove off now, I'm busy and you're in the way. Come back tomorrow and I may have more time for you.

And close the door behind you!'

Madge's Musings 2nd Day of Advent

 'So, let me get these boots off and I'll tell you what I found out. Blessed if I know why you're interested but there we go.

Market was crowded today, pushing and shoving. Took all the strength in my pointy elbows to get through. Anyway I finally found someone who knew what was going on and over a beer - or three! - I got the story out of him. Seems that some folk came down from the mountains to cause bother, someone got hurt and the Guardian got scared and banned magic. Well that's not a very good explanation so I decided that a trip to the Citadel was the way to get some more reliable information.

Now, I need tea, so you'll have to wait.

Right, where was I? The Citadel, that's right. The problem with getting into the Citadel is that there are guards everywhere. That problem can be made to go away if you know a little magic and a few of the guards. In the basement is a small dining room, good cake and the gossip is first rate. So I found a corner table and listened. Three slices of cake later and I knew what happened.

Mountain people are misunderstood in Lunecaster. Everyone thinks that they're savage and brutal. Truth is, most of them are but they're also great company and master brewers. The best beer I ever tasted was when I went to my cousin Luka's wedding. No hangover either. That side of the family don't come down from the mountains very often but Aunt Bertha has been known to visit. She's the sort of witch I'd love to be, really creative and boy, can she curse. If you ever get cursed by Aunt Bertha you stay cursed. See that doorstop? That was my second, no third cat and it scratched Aunt Bertha. Turned it to stone without even blinking. Great witch.

Anyhow, seems that some of the mountain folk were gathering something on the edge of the forest, disturbed something and there was a huge battle, proper magical one too. Reminded the Guardian of the last days of the Great Mage War and he suddenly banned magic and that's where we are now.

Stupid if you ask me. Not that anyone ever does, old women are invisible these days. Not like during the Mage Wars when crones were valued. So now we're not supposed to do any magic, 'on pain of banishment' according to the posters. And I've got all these potions to finish. So, I may bend the rules a little and hope no-one notices the Veil of Unseeing I've draped over the workshop.'

Madge's Musings 1st Day of Advent

 I wanted to steal an idea from other writers and write a story in episodes over Advent. However, as is often the case with my ideas, I have failed to come up with a good story idea! 

So I thought I'd throw my blog over to the protagonist of my much re-written novel, currently called Lunecaster. She's full of interesting things and thoughts and will have no trouble coming up with something to say. Without further ado, here's Madge.

'Before I start, and I think it's a daft idea anyway, let's get one thing straight. I'm a witch. Now I know that the correct term round here is 'enchantress' but those who know me will tell you that I'm rarely enchanting. I'm a proper down and dirty, messy, murky witch. No pointy hats or cats neither. I prefer a good solid bonnet and cats keep leaving me, probably because I forget to feed them.

I can't imagine what you think I'm going to write, I'm far too busy for literature. These potions won't brew themselves, you know. And don't get smart and tell me to make 'em with magic either! That's a very old joke. 

Things are very touchy round here at the minute. Directives flying from the Citadel every day and no-one knows whether we're coming or going. I'm keeping me head down, don't need no trouble at my age, which is none of your business. I've seen it all before. But this time, I don't know, feels different.

Just so you know, the last directive, signed by the Guardian and the Council of Elders said that magic is now banned in Lancaster. Bloody cheek! I'm off to the market to get the gossip so I'll fill you in tomorrow. Now, where did I put my shawl...?'