Chapters of Delia

Well, the little town of Narrowhaven was quite the quaint place to awaken in, in the early morning hours, as the sun rose above the water and small birds sang outside of her window at the inn. Quite a spot to get away from things in Moonglow, where she still hoped above hope to learn more magic. She supposed it would help her, considering the ghosts were still following her about like some kind of magnet, or perhaps a mother duck followed by quacking ducklings. She never liked it, and tended to run off. After all, there was little she could do about ghosts, and sometimes they would get angry and throw things. There was little a budding seamstress could do about angry ghosts, therefore she had learned to run rather fast.

It happened again, last evening, while she was out running about looking for sheep, and nosing into the empty homes that dotted the island here and there. She was nineteen, therefore she still was allowed to be nosy – a quality she probably would continue to possess, even after she was ninety. The house had a ghost, and it was a pity because there were some books that looked very interesting on the book shelf. However, experience told her that it was best to hightail it when doors started opening and closing of their own accord. Perhaps she’d go back and try again, some time. She was certain that ghosts sometimes slept, and books were quite an attraction – especially dusty, old, ancient tomes. Okay, well, perhaps those weren’t quite so ancient, but the house was abandoned, therefore they had to be at least old. At any rate they were books, and books to her were like cheese to a mouse. She would definitely try again.

Then there was this man, a big man, probably a knight, or some such, because he was very shiny in armour and he glowed, who had not been able to take the moongate. Moongates were something Delia had learned rather easily, so she was befuddled on how he couldn’t figure it out. Perhaps it was all that metal he wore. He needed to get to Narrowhaven, and he needed a cartographer, and several things she simply couldn’t give him, being that her arms were rather full of wool that itched her nose. So he took her on the ship, instead. It was probably a good thing that he did, considering she wouldn’t ever have that much money to take herself, and it was quite a beautiful (though much longer than the moongate!) ride over the water. She didn’t once get sea sick, and was quite proud of herself for that.

She couldn’t help him find the governor, probably because, as she had told him, she was a seamstress and had no idea about governors or anything of that sort. She did suggest the buildings behind a huge wall to the north, and was pleased when this was verified by a man standing nearby who was listening in. That was after they had taken another man to find a sewer – he had said he wanted to strengthen his arms. She had no idea how you strengthened your arms in a sewer, and at that point didn’t really wish to ask, since the smithy where the entrance to the sewer lay smelt like rotten feet and smoke, and she really wanted nothing more than to get to bed, at that point.

She hoped that Faramund found what he was looking for, and looked forwards to finding out exactly what he was doing. Being nineteen meant you could still put your pert little nose into things (even itching from wool), and not get into too much trouble for it, or be called a busy-body old woman.

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