Hob Goodfellowe

The Faer creature who called herself Moggie Moulach grinned, wide and sharp and plaque-stained yellow. “Good. The incurious never find out curious things. Shall I walk you to the door? I cannot go beyond it, unfortunately, but you will find the way easily enough from here, aye.” “I suppose you might.” Caewen let herself fall…

“Best not be touching those carvings. Not unless you want to spend the rest of your life listening to the voices and songs of them things that dwell in the icy voids between the stars. Of course, some folk do.” She looked up, frowning, as if she could see shapes moving high above in the…

“By what?” asked the old magess. Her wooly hair was making a dark cloud around her, so that her skin stood out, pallid against it. Night’s shadows were deepening the lines of her face. “Just some voice on the air. I suppose this place is rife with them. Being a meeting of wizards, and everything.”…

Arising out of a subtle drift of mixed colours and shapes, the last of the three arrived. She was young, wonderfully beautiful, and hugely round in the belly: fully pregnant, apparently ready to drop a child any day, from the look of her. The woman let a serene sort of smile cross her face, she…

“Hello there,” said Caewen. She introduced herself then, and Dapplegrim too. He smiled his own sharp grin. The young woman had quite the singular appearance to Caewen’s eyes. She blinked green cat’s eyes and ran a hand under hair like red snakes, clearing the locks away from her face. Her skin was dark, almost black,…

For a time then, there was nothing for it, but to wait. So they chatted idly, watching as magicians-to-be were called, one after another, into the maze. Out of an urge to make conversation and pass the time, Caewen asked Keru and Keri why they wanted the status of magehood when neither of them seemed…

“Or… maybe Samarkarantha?” said Keru, himself puzzled. “He could he have sent a note ahead of us? Or his little woody faced servant things might have come in the night? That was clever of him–if he did it–he does seem to always be thinking ahead with things. Could’ve been him? I guess.” He didn’t sound…

As they went, Keri mused aloud, losing herself in half-words and half-memories, “Old Magess Quinnya. That one was a bit of a battleaxe. Always angry about something. Go there. Stand here. No, stand there! And stop looking at me like that. And don’t be so smug.” Keri affected a high, nasal tone–a sort of cultured…

“You heard about that too? Wasn’t it an accident?” Keru held his words for a breath after he said it, reflecting, then adding, “I didn’t hear much, I guess.” Keri skipped her voice in over his. “Oh, brother, you do love the sound of your own voice. When you don’t have anything to say, you…