Rune of Oldfyre

Chapter Twenty

A week or so later, after a few dates, I was sitting alone in my apartment. It was a tiny two room flat with a bed, washroom,  and a small table. There was a large window with a view of the bay and the street below; as it was practically a crime to use boring transparent glass, I had the glass tinted red so that a sanguine light filled the room. I sat at the table looking over both my spellbooks, I had multiple now, and the menial paperwork that goes with owning a shop in a highly popular location. I heard the bell ring from downstairs.

When I checked to see who rung, nobody was standing there. I looked down to find a package, roughly the size of my head. It was wrapped in a navy blue paper and held together with a gold ribbon. A card on attached to it informed me that it was addressed to me.

Of course it would be; who else lives here?

I left the package on the main counter in the shop, deciding to get to it later. Almost the exact moment I entered through the upstairs doorway the bell rang once more.

May was standing in the doorframe. She was wearing her olive coat over an obsidian shirt. She had pushed her hair back, revealing her slightly pointed ears. She held a little baggy containing, what I presumed was, her lunch.

"May," I said "aren't you supposed to be at the college?"

"You sound just like my mother. Classes were cancelled today. Someone thought it was okay to combine the Catalyst of Orange and sheep shit. The entire western quarter had to be evacuated before the coloured gas got too rambunctious." She said. I laughed at that; because you're supposed to mix Catalyst of Orange with horse shit not sheep.

"Well if you want, there's a table upstairs. I'll be right up. I need to do something first." I told her.

"Okay." She said, before heading upstairs.

I grabbed at the blue package off the  counter. I find a small knife and cut at the wrapping. When I opened the box I had to recoil in disgust. Sitting in the box was a severed goat's head, barely preserved. I was ready to discard the thing entirely, by feeding it to Molly, when I noticed that the head held some rolled up parchment in its mouth.

I unrolled the paper and read its contents.

"To Ardent, owner and proprietor of the unnamed magic shop in the Harbor District,

You and one guest have been cordially invited to attend the première showing of Raapinzeanüs. Come to the palace theatre on the third day of the Month of Sun to join in on the laughs, the loves, and the lambs. It is highly suggested, by royal decree, that guests bring an umbrella if seated in the splash zone. Performed by the city's legion of captured homeless. Music provided by local minstrels: Frenzy! in the Dancehall. Raapinzeanüs a play written by Allister Smythe, Undead.

Send your ‘répondez s'il vous plaît’ to D. Tennant at Blue Box Tickets in the Theatre District"

So that's what Al's been up to.

I realized that I have indeed forgotten to name the shop. The sign outside still says "Magic items!". I’ll write a new one later, probably “Molly’s Magical Market”,

Upstairs, May was eating some sort of noodle with sauce.

“I’ve been invited to the palace.” I told her.

“Why? Are they going to beat you with sticks?” She asked.

“What?”

“That’s what they do there isn’t it?”

“I don’t think it is.” I said.

“I just figured that that’s what people do in government. They invite people over and then beat them with sticks.” She said.

“It might. But no, I was invited to view a play.”

“Why you?”

“I'm friends with the playwright.” I informed her.

“What’s it called?” She asked, taking a slurp of noodle.

I looked at the invite “Raapinzeanüs, Valeic for Dan-”

“Dance of the Swans.” She finished.

“I doubt there will be many swans in this play though.”

“What makes you say that?” She asked

“It was delivered in the maw of a severed goat head.” I explained.

“Oh,” She said, “sounds fun.”

“I can take a guest along with me.’ I told her.

“Really?” She asked, intrigued.

“Yeah, I just don’t who I’d take with me,” I smiled, “Do you know of anyone who’d want to go?”

She smiled and stood up, wrapping her arms around me. 

“You know ancient Valeic?” I asked, remembering.

“E’ Sälla Cree Salv’ac.” She whispered in my ear. I blushed. She then pushed me into the bed.