In a Weary World

Chapter VI: Solvej Goes on Holiday

And stars don't care what you wish, and magic don't make things better, and no one doesn't get burned who sticks their hand in a fire. If you want to amount to anything as a witch, Magrat Garlick, you got to learn three things. What's real, what's not real, and what's the difference. -- Terry Pratchett, Witches Abroad

Hjalmar and Solvej had been in Therlund a week now. Hjalmar had applied and been accepted for the job in the bookshop. Solvej spent most of her time wandering around the city. When asked how she came by the money she had suddenly gained and why she seemed to have turned her lodgings into an apothecary's, she gave a long, complicated explanation that boiled down to "I'm a witch, so I'm practising magic and selling potions". Hjalmar decided not to ask too many questions. That way he could honestly say he knew nothing about it should things go wrong. Apart from that, all seemed well with the world.

So why did Hjalmar feel that his life was on the verge of some great and sudden change?

It couldn't be his lodgings, which were the best he could afford but by no means great. It couldn't be his job, which was enjoyable enough and paid well but was still just a job. It couldn't be the city, which had ceased to be amazing and become annoying the more times he got lost in it. It couldn't be Solvej, who he scarcely saw for more than a few minutes lately. There was, he decided, only one thing it could be -- or one person, rather.

Merethe.

Merethe Haagensen was his co-worker. They took turns working the shop's only till. They sorted out books together. They had their lunch break together. They had exchanged at most five words. Yet Hjalmar found her in his thoughts with increasing frequency.

This wasn't the sort of subject he wanted to ask Solvej about, so he started writing a letter to his mother. He described his journeys and his new job (carefully omitting all reference to his ghostly travelling companion) and then started explaining the present situation.

Please, Mother, before you laugh and start teasing me, I want to make it clear that I am not in love with Merethe. Frankly, I think there might be something... well, something wrong with her. I first noticed it on my first day of work. It was just after our lunch break, and she was washing dishes. There's nothing unusual in that, but she didn't know how to wash dishes. In fact, she acted like she'd never seen a sink, or washing-up liquid, or a scrubbing brush before.

Since then I've noticed the same sort of thing over and over again. She acts like she's never seen anything before, and... Do you remember the Callesens, that arrogant family who thought they were so much better than the rest of the village? Well, she acts like them, only... nicer. As if her high-and-mighty manners come naturally to her. I'm sorry, this letter makes no sense. I don't know how to explain what I mean to say.

There's something odd about Merethe. That's the best I can do.

Give my love to Agnethe and Mathilde. (Agnethe and Mathilde were Hjalmar's sisters.) I'll write again soon.

Love, Hjalmar.

Having sent this letter, he did his best to forget Merethe's existence. Merethe herself worked against him. So did Solvej. Every day Merethe did something to draw attention to herself, whether it was coming to work with her dress on back-to-front or being hopelessly at a loss on how to send a telegram. Every day when he returned to his lodgings, Solvej would appear from her lodgings next door and specifically ask about Merethe. The thought occasionally occurred to him that Solvej was trying to play match-maker. He very firmly ignored that thought. A ghostly travelling companion he could just about cope with. A ghostly matchmaker was entirely too much.