Skara Braens

Part 34

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Onward!

"Alright," you say to the eagle. "I'll bite.  Who is the master?"

Shapinsay.

"Just give me a straight answer, you half-brained turkey!"

Eagle.

"Whatever. Who is the master?"

Shapinsay.

"Who. Is. The. Master?"

The architect. The progenitor. The master is the past, the present, the future.

"That was genuinely unhelpful."

He is looking for you.

"So you said.  Why?" 

He is afraid of you.

You pause, blinking in surprise.  "Why?" you whisper.

Shapinsay. Shapinsay. Pretty. Purple. Pretty.

Feeling like you've lost the eagle again, you return to stirring the porridge.  You are no clearer on the who this master is, but you're starting to think that he might be responsible for this plague.  The question, then, is why on earth someone with the title of Master could possibly be afraid of you?  What about a confused, lost person could possibly be frightening?  It worries you that you know so little about yourself.  What if you are hiding something that might be destructive?  What if you end up hurting, or killing, your new friends?

"Take that off the fire!" Gabby barks, snapping you from your thoughts.  You react before thinking, grabbing the huge cauldron of porridge and hauling it off it's hook.  Only when you set the thing on the ground do you realise that you've burnt your hand.  You let loose a string of guttural curses.

"Easy now," Drest says, abandoning his post and rising to go to you.  "Let me see that."

"It hurts!" you whine.

"No doubt.  You've got yourself a nice, deep burn here.  Hold still, would you?"

"But it hurts!"

Drest laughs.  He turns to Gabby, who, grumbling to herself, has taken up the cauldron—using a thick cloth—and placing it on a bench.  "Have you any salve?"

"In a moment," Gabby answers.  She turns to Drest.  "They've burnt the porridge.  Now i have to use extra sugar to hide the taste of char."

"Sorry," you mumble.  "I was thinking."

"You should have been thinking and stirring."

"Yes, ma'am.  I'm sorry."

Gabby sighs.  She wipes her hands on her apron skirt and walks to a small chest.  Opening it, she pulls out a jar of something and a clean rag and walks to you.

"Hold out your hand," she commands.

Sheepishly, you do so.  Unable to uncurl your fingers on your own, you offer Gabby a sheepish smile.  She uncurls your fingers for you revealing a thin oozing gash in your hand.  You wince.

"So," Drest says, drawing your attention away from the pain in your hand.  "What did the bird have to say now?"

You look at Drest.  "It seems that someone called 'The Master' is looking for me.  According to brainless over there, he's afraid of me."

"Afraid of you?  Why?"

"I have no idea.  The dolt—"

Eagle.