Weaver's Curse

Indeara Vef had one goal in life: find the Weavers.

It was difficult to have any other goals when you literally couldn’t remember anything but that, your own name, and a few other insignificant snippets.

Wherever she went, no one seemed to know what she was talking about. And for some reason, this kingdom was not a safe place for witches like herself. People kept trying to coerce her into working for them, or put her in debt to them so she’d have no other choice.

And it wasn’t any safer for other witches. Just yesterday, she’d seen a group of armed men escorting a windowless black carriage that obviously contained another witch. She’d hit them with a blast of explosion magic and run. No point in getting caught while trying to help some other unfortunate soul.

Hopefully they were alright.

Indeara herself had already travelled two villages over, and was stopped in a tavern, eating a hunk of roasted chicken with warm black bread.

A boy dropped into the seat across from her, grinning. He looked like trouble.

“Hello there! Nigel Diddlesworth at your service!”

“I do not believe I am in need of your service.” Indeara said.

What kind of name is ‘Diddlesworth’, anyway?

“Ouch.” Nigel said. “But don’t be too sure of that.”

“I’m not sure what service you could possibly offer me that I would find useful.”

“Information, perhaps?”

“Information?” Indeara said, pausing with a forkful of chicken halfway to her mouth. She set her fork down.

“You’re looking for the weavers, aren’t you?”

“I might be.”

“You look like you are.” Nigel said, smiling.

“What can you tell me about the weavers?” Indeara asked.

“Not much.” Nigel said. “But I know someone who can lead you to them.”

He slapped a piece of paper down in front of her. Indeara took it, smoothing out the wrinkles on it.

It was a missing poster for someone named Sedine Malachite. A rough sketch showed a girl with delicate elfin features and a blank look. A description of her coloring, the date she’d disappeared, and the reward offered for finding her was included.

“Look kid, I’m no bounty hunter.” Indeara said, sliding the poster back to him.

“I never said you were.” Nigel said. “However, you won’t be able to find what you’re looking for without Miss Malachite’s help.”

“And what advantage does she have that I don’t?” Indeara questioned.

Nigel glanced around and lowered his voice. “She’s a witch. Her abilities are... unlike anything you’ll have seen. They’ll ensure that you’ll find what you’re looking for.”

Indeara nodded.

There were many witches that had abilities unique to themselves, or to their families. At least she thought there were. She wasn’t sure who had told her that information.

This Sedine Malachite was likely one of them, with some sort of tracking ability, if Nigel thought she’d be able to find the weavers.

“And where will I find this girl?”

“Last I knew, she was working as a tavern wench in a town called Yester just a few days from here.” Nigel said.

“Thanks for the tip.” Indeara said. “What will this information cost me?”

“Holy shit, what is that?” Nigel breathed, staring at something behind her with wide eyes.

Indeara turned to look. There was nothing there but a burly bald man eating an entire chicken by himself. When she turned around, Nigel was gone.

Well that was weird.

Hopefully he wasn’t a hack.

She tossed a few coins down on the table, and left the tavern.

“Which road takes me to Yester?” she asked a man herding a group of goats towards a pen behind a nearby inn.

“That one.” He said, pointing. “Not sure what you’d want in that shithole, though.”

“Visiting family.” Indeara said, giving him a tight-lipped smile.

“I hope your relative saves up enough to move soon.” The goatherd said over his shoulder as he continued on his way.

Indeara set off down the road he’d pointed out.

It can’t be that bad, can it?

It was that bad.

The roads were caked in pig shit, and as it was a warm day, the entire village reeked of the stuff.

Enormous swine wandered around in groups. Half of them looked wild, with coarse hair and long tusks. All of them looked vicious. On top of that, their hooves had churned the road into a muddy mess that looked as if it could suck the boots off your feet.

Indeara watched as a group of pigs converged around a woman and began to snort aggressively. She swung her walking stick at them, whacking several over the snouts, and shouted at them. This only seemed to enrage them. Just as Indeara seriously began to fear for the woman’s life, a group of men with axes swarmed down the road and began attacking the hogs, even successfully killing one.

The hogs backed off, not willing to go up against their axes, and the men hefted the pig carcass onto their shoulders and wandered off down the road, whistling.

Indeara gave the pigs a wary look, and hurriedly made her way into the village. Thankfully, the further in she got, the less large the pigs were. The place was still littered with little pink and black piglets and mounds of dung.

What is the deal with these pigs?

She shook her head, and began to look for taverns. There were only one in the small village, called ‘The Sleeping Sow’. Indeara shook her head at the name, and went inside.

If she’d been hoping this place would be free of pigs, she would have been disappointed.

There was an enormous sow, probably at least four hundred pounds sleeping in one corner, and plenty of piglets in colors ranging from pink to orange to black running around the tavern squealing.

At least these piglets look fairly clean.

As Indeara watched, a tavern wench snatched a little black piglet up and carried it towards the kitchen.

“Fresh pork!” a man with a dirty face cried.

The other patrons roared their approval.

The sow cracked one eye open. “That better not have been one of mine.” She remarked.

What. The. Fuck, Indeara thought, suppressing a surprised yelp.

“Not one of yours, Pinky.” Another tavern wench assured the sow.

The sow, Pinky settled back down and began snoring.

Indeara scanned the tavern for a girl that looked similar to Sedine. She found one, wearing the same style dress and cap as the other tavern wenches, eating a plate or pork chops and roasted green beans. Her hair was dark, unlike the blonde hair the description on the poster had given.

Probably dyed.

She slid into the seat next to the girl and asked, “What is the deal with the pigs around here?”

“Not from around here?” she asked. Indeara shook her head.

“Well, if you’re ever considering letting a witch magically modify your pigs to grow faster and produce larger litters, don’t.” the girl said. “Supposedly the idiot didn’t know anything about pigs and decided to enhance their intelligence as well, as if hogs weren’t already too smart for their own good.”

“So that one over there had it’s intelligence enhanced to the point that it learned how to speak?” Indeara asked.

“Yeah. She was also part of the batch that the idiot enhanced to live longer. So we have to deal with Pinky for at least another twenty-five years.”

So some idiot decided to play God with a bunch of hogs and they quickly got overrun with a bunch of smarter-than average swine that produce enormous litters and mob pedestrians. Sounds fun.

“You could always just kill her,” Indeara suggested.

She snorted. “Pinky’s too good at begging for her life. Plus, Vassa would never let anyone.”

“What’s your name? I’m Indeara.”

“Sedna. What brings you to Yester?”

Sedna. Not Sedine. So I guess she’s not interested in being found.

“Looking for help.”

“Help? Unless it’s hog extermination, you probably won’t get any here.”

“I’m looking for a witch’s help.” Indeara said quietly. “Most specifically from one surnamed ‘Malachite’.”

If she was Sedine Malachite, Sedna showed no reaction other than cold calculation.

“I was sent by a kid called Nigel Diddlesworth?”

“Oh, him.” Sedna said, standing up. “Come with me.”

Indeara followed her into the kitchens, where the tavern wench from before was happily slicing up the piglet, and out through the back door.

“Look, I don’t know you, but I owe Nigel a favor. If he sent you my way, hopefully you’re trustworthy.” Sedna said. “I’m the Malachite he sent you to find, if that wasn’t already obvious.”

“He said you could help me find the weavers?” Indeara said.

“Weavers? Never heard of them.” Sedine said.

“Oh.” Indeara said, feeling dejected.

Another dead end.

“But that doesn’t mean I can’t help you find them.” Sedine said, smiling slightly. “Tell you what, stay the night here, and I promise we don’t have pig shit in our bedding, and we’ll start out to look for these weavers in the morning. Sound good?”

“Sure.” Indeara said.

“Good. Come on inside.”