Temporal Exploring 101 - Deep Future

IV.3 Red wine and a falling star

That Friday afternoon, Nancy, Natty and I were picked up by the chauffeur James who drove us to Kerrington Manor in one of those impressive huge black limousines of Lord Kerrington's car park.

The weekend we spent at Nancy's family's place was a much more relaxed affair than usual. This time around we did not have any special agenda, such as having James drive us to Wales so we could check Erin Morgan's grandma or climb Mount Fernyr to retrieve some mysterious amulet deposited there.

We were welcomed by Nancy's little sister Liz who appeared to be overjoyed to see us.

"Ah, you're early, that's brilliant," she gushed. "You are not going to believe all the new tricks that Sneakers has mastered."

Sneakers was Lizzie's pet white mouse, an adorable little creature with a little nose, fluffy fur and amazing red eyes. Whatever one might think of Sneaker's intelligence – and Liz thought most highly of it – I had to admit that without the small animal's assistance we probably never would have found the letter that Erin's grandma had deposited for her, at that time when we had found the old lady's cottage burglarized, with Granny Morgan disappeared.

Nancy rolled her  eyes. "I can't wait to see Sneaker's latest achievements."

Her sister either failed to detect the irony, or else she was immune to it. Beaming with joy, she led us upstairs to her room.

Lizzie's bedroom turned out different from what I had expected. For starters, it was a lot smaller than I had anticipated. There was barely enough room for a bed, a desk and a  chair as well as a set of bookshelves filled to overflowing with what appeared to be fantasy novels, for the most part, and with all kinds of other knick-knacks.

Sneaker's cage was positioned on a low chest of drawers, with its small gate ajar.

The little rodent itself was busy climbing the bookshelves, exploring.

"So, did you make any progress with your project of becoming a witch, Lizzie?" Natty conversationally inquired.

A couple of weeks ago, on our way back from a day's trip to Wales, Nancy's sister had announced her decision to try and teach herself witchcraft, as a sort of hobby. Sneakers, she had argued, would make a most excellent familiar.

Liz made a face. "Not as much progress as I had hoped. See, Mum and Dad do not really support me in this. Just the other day, Mum flatly refused to order a basic textbook on witchcraft for me at the bookstore."

Nancy frowned. "Some Aleister Crowley, again?"

"Nah, just a basic book of spells. A must-have for any young witch in training, really."

"I wonder what your mother might have against your becoming a witch," Natty commented, tongue-in-cheek.

Nancy shot her a disapproving look. 'Do not encourage her', that look said.

"Mum claims that a girl can't make a living of practicing witchcraft, in this day and age," her  sister elaborated. "Also, she says witches used to be burned at the stake, which is a fate she does not desire for youngest daughter. As if." She scowled. "She knows as well as I do that the last witch was burned like, centuries ago. Also, I told her repeatedly that I do not intend to earn any money by casting spells and such. It's meant to be a hobby for me, no more, no less."

"Ah well. I guess we all know just how irrational mothers can act," I tried to console her. "Anyway, why don't you go and show us Sneaker's new tricks?"

 My feeble attempt to distract Liz from her disgruntled mood actually worked.

On one of her shelves sat a small box filled with wooden pearls of a various bright colors. Apparently Liz had begun to create a necklace, threading those pearls on a string. She took the half-finished necklace and addressed the little rodent.