Phony Potions

Chapter 31

The rain was clearing up when Winsor and I stepped out of the cabaret. Either it naturally let up, or Osoro had his powers back and was desperately trying to restore the night to a clear festival friendly atmosphere. Tracks had already been driven deep into the mud and the crowd was spread out much less densely than before. Many people hid underneath long shawls suspended above their heads.

I had managed to wrangle a smile from Winsor's face through my continued antics. I was pretty good at flattery, after years of sales and soothing burnt customers. Winsor wasn't terribly hard to read, and I felt a little twinge of satisfaction when he raised his hands to his face and covered his mouth while laughing, which was good, because if he wandered off before I got this curse lifted....

"Winsor?" A woman's voice cut across our laughter. Winsor stumbled to a stop. He fixated on a young, shapely elven lady in a ruffled dark gown with a diamond brooch that pinned a cape around her neck. A parasol with ribbon rows sat lightly on her shoulder, the rain drops spinning out in a radial pattern as she gave the handle a small twist. Behind her was another woman, ornate and doll-like in her pale pink dress but without the precious gems. She was a plump girl and silent, her own umbrella still. A frown pursed on her painted lips.

"Azeria?" Winsor asked, staring at the woman who had spoken. And then he smiled, this time not the nervous, embarrassed smiles I was getting from him, or the quick and hardy bursts of laughter. Instead, it grew like a rising sun on his face, filling his entire body. "Azeria!" he repeated. He took a step toward her. She remained stationary, the ripples in the fabric of her gown only shuddering with the small breezes outside. She tilted her head and the curls about her face fell back. The expression on the pink-clad girl behind her deepened, disapproving lines springing up between her eyebrows as Winsor approached.

"The cabaret?" Azeria said, and her face drew tight. She shot a disgruntled look over her shoulder at the woman in the pink dress. "Perhaps you were right, Tyas."

The woman behind her, Tyas, forced her face to look placid while regarded by her master.

"My apologies, Enchanted One."

Azeria turned again and leveled her head again at Winsor. Winsor stopped stepping forward, frozen awkwardly midstep by her disapproval. He came to his senses and drew his other foot next to the one that had launched itself out eagerly toward her. He tugged at his bangs nervously.

"Uh...."

"I knew your brother used to be fond of the cabaret, but you'd always said you had no interest in that sort of thing."

"I don't!" he retorted.

Another patron stepped out of the door behind us with a gaggle of his friends, all laughing. One of them bowed to Winsor as they walked by.

"That was awesome, Enchanted One!" he shouted.

"Yeah!" Another chimed in. "Everyone's talking about how they can't wait 'til you visit again!" They all cheered Winsor as they continued to walk away. Winsor shrunk back, his eyes growing wide as his shoulders hunched up, as if he was trying to disappear into his own torso.

"Huh." Her voice was attempting indifference, but I sensed loss beneath the inflection. "That's that then. Good night Winsor. Come along, Tyas." She turned and walked away. Winsor bolted toward her.

"Oh, Azeria! Don't be cross! Please? It's been so long since you've been to Blythe, and you never let me visit..." Winsor chased after her as she swayed away.

"I thought maybe we'd have something to talk about," Azeria sniffed. "But I can see that you are occupied enough. I wonder if your taste for seeing women flounce about naked on stage is inherited or learned. With your brother, it may be either."