Order On the Road Now!
"Right," said Mallara, struggling through the mud. "What, precisely, do the stories say about the Round?"
Burn flew above her, matching her pace. "On Ollow's Eve, when the piper plays, Old Bones comes out to dance," he said. "Old Bones is understood to be a euphemism for the Winter King, a local harvest spirit..."
"I know all about the Winter King," said Mallara. He brings gifts to good children, brings peace to the troubled. An image of a bone-bodied, pumpkin-headed sprite rose to her mind, and she quickly pushed it away. "What we need to know," she said, "is what makes this Piper play, and when."
"According to everyone who has studied this place, Mistress, the piper plays only when Mages aren't around," said Burn. "The only recent sightings have been by shepherds, by kids, and at least one wandering minstrel." Burn settled nearer. "I never understood why Master Wesseven was adamant that the Round be studied; he didn't believe half the stories."
"He believed a few," said Mallara. She halted and kicked the foot of Stone Five, knocking gobs of red mud off her boots. "And he always said that if even one story was true, then the Round was worth the time," she added.
Burn snorted. "No disrespect, Sorceress, but the man believed stones sometimes fall from the sky," he said.
Mallara shrugged. "Perhaps they do," she said.
Burn flew a small loop above her head. "Fine," he said. "Taunt me. But the fact remains - no Mage ever saw the Old Bones dance, or heard the piper play."
Meralda resumed her slow, noisy circuit of the stones, and nodded in agreement.
"Why not?" she asked. "What did they do wrong?"
"Knowing Mages -- aside from you, of course, Mistress -- they stamped in here grumbling, snuffed out a cigar with their boot in the exact center of the ancient sacred space, and unleashed two dozen hostile spellworks at the pumpkins," Burn said. "Bless their enlightened souls," he added, quickly.
Mallara managed a smile. "You're probably correct," she said. "They all looked for remnant magics. They all set ward spells and cast look-sees and tangles at the stones."
"They all saw nothing," said Burn.
Mallara nodded. "They all saw nothing." And then she spoke a Word, and the light hanging above the Round went dark. She raised her hands, and spoke another word, and the tangled skeins of light returned to her, and she thanked them, and they too went dark.
Night reclaimed the Round, the wet stones touched here and there by flickering orange pumpkin-light. "Mistress?" said Burn, from above.
"My predecessors had mage-lights and tangle-spells and half a dozen other magics," said Mallara. She marched back to stand by her staff, her boots making loud sucking noises in the mud with every step. "We'll wait in the dark. With nothing."
Burn followed, buzzing in the shimmer frown. "Ah," he said. "Say it a bit louder, won't you? I'm not sure each and every bandit and haint in the Five Valleys heard you, that time."
Mallara reached her staff, retrieved her damp cloak, and threw it over her shoulders. "Nonsense," she said.
Burn sighed. "Can I at least look around?" he asked.
"Of course," said Mallara. The light wind shifted, and the music from Toth came with it, faint but clear.
"Happy Ollow's Eve, Mistress," said Burn. "Peace and plenty to you and yours."
"To you too," said Mallara. Burn flew up into the dark.
Mallara waited until Burn was gone, and wiped away a tear.