Marigold looked at me in disbelief, frowning. But then her nice features relaxed into a smirk:
“I never understand the relations between peasants. I’ll talk to Kal and highly recommend him to keep his sister in check. The fact that he, a peasant, was lucky to become a Mage, doesn’t give his family members a title and a right to take liberties with each other in your presence. You are not well enough to watch this circus show, and he perfectly knows it,” she seems to forget about people around. “Let’s go!” she whispered in my ear, making a shiver go down my spine. “If they realize who you are, they will never leave us alone. Put on your hood.”
I was reluctant to obey her, but more than that I was interested. As I did it, she said good-bye to the villagers and wished them to live long and prosper and all sorts of things. When quick courtesies were over, Zarya wanted to take my hand and show me the way, but I refused and just went on walking along the narrow road leaving her no chance but follow me behind. Robin was seen nowhere, having dissolved among his countrymen.
The weather was felicitous, and it would have delighted me if I had not been in my clothes. I shuffled my hoodie yesterday fearing the morning coolness; the whole day I was stressed as hell and didn’t mention any inconveniences, but now, under the hoodie, was my personal hell. The sun, an angry yellow eye, was shining ruthlessly. I wonder how women here could work in their heavy-weight dresses with long sleeves.
I was thirsty and hot but continued strolling away from the crowd. I didn’t hear Zarya’s footsteps, but felt her presence behind my back. Patiently shadowing me, she didn’t try to talk, and I was pretty fine with it.
At last, I saw a lonely nook surrounded by high bushes with downy paws. In the middle of it there stood a water well covered with moss at the base. On its dome one might see a bronze hare figure, green over the years. I couldn’t stand the heat anymore and pulled the hoodie awkwardly right over my head. A short sleeve T-shirt with deep V neck got tangled, exposing my breast in silly pink bra to the wind, but I didn’t really care, breathing a sigh of relief. When I cast my glance at marigold, she lowered her eyes swaying from toes to heels watching her leather flats. Allegedly, my ghostbuster felt guilty peeping at me.
With twisted curls on my forehead, red in my face but not because I was shameful, I threw a hateful piece of clothing on the nearest bush and came right up to the well.
It was filled to the rim. The stone was dry and hot, but the water was heavenly cool. I drank insatiably scooping up the water with both hands while washing my face, neck, arms, and tummy.
Tucking my shirt in jeans, I felt something strange on my face and arms, like gossamer. I touched my dewy cheeks, but there was nothing again. To make sure I had a hasty look at my reflection in the well, but instead of my own face I saw Zarya. It was definitely marigold, no mistake. I parted my lips in surprise, but the reflection was motionless like a glitched video frame on a computer screen. I looked at Zarya: she stood more than few steps away from me; consequently, it couldn’t have been her reflection. I shook my head and pinched the bridge of my nose.
How I hate when you never know what to expect here! What is it now: a woeful well spirit, vodyanoi, one more vindictive spectre?
Drawing back from the well, I nearly twisted my ankle on cobbles, wet and slippery after my sparrowy bathing.
“Did you see anything in the well?” Zarya had taken off my hoodie from the branches and was holding a bundle like it was her newborn baby.
“No, I didn’t. Why?” I tried to straight my face and rub my aching ankle at the same time.
“It is cursed,” she said it so naturally as if she was telling me about her last weekend.
“Of course it is cursed! Why would not it be? ” I cooed poisonously, “Anything else you forget to tell me? Horns will grow on my head and I’ll turn into a goat eventually?”
“Not at all!” she hurried to reassure me. “They say you can see something in the water: something you fear or want; I don’t remember exactly. Locals consider it cursed and never drink or take water from the well.”
I was puzzled: the well was closer to lots of houses than the Hare rivulet. During my little journey with Robin I saw many people dragging buckets of water from the rivulet. It might take a considerable amount of time to run with huge buckets from this place to the Hare rivulet. Besides, I had major doubts that they had any water service company here.
“What about lifting the curse from this well? You seem to know ... hmm ... some magic methods?” It was still hard to pronounce “magic” not in terms of stylistic devices or a fantasy book.
“It’s just peasants’ superstition. Nothing more. Don’t worry, there is no magic in here!” she assured me with a smile, hugging my hoodie tightly. “I drank from this well many times but saw nothing strange.”
“Then tell people they can use it without fear. They’ll listen to you, because they seem to love you or, at least, respect.” I was surprised why she or any other mages didn’t do it earlier. I saw some pregnant women hurrying with heavy buckets and a bunch of shrilling, squeaking toddlers clinging to the folds of their mothers’ dresses.
“I don’t think mages and mage herbalists who live and work in proximity would like crowds of noisy peasants here.”
Now everything is clear: I should have noticed that some apartments behind the lush bushes were far too elegant to compare with the houses I’ve walked by.
“You would rather watch hardworking villagers making a huge detour every day, than tell them the truth about the well? And all of this is for peace and tranquility of the local elites?”
“Most of peasants are hardheaded and illiterate. Even if I tell them, they would still avoid it,” she retorted. “Avis, let’s just go back to the castle; they are not the problem you should worry about. Believe me; they have happy, well-fed, and quiet way of life now to compare with what they had eight years ago.”
“You give them no chance, marigold. The point is to make their lives better every day, but not be satisfied with the results you achieved eight years ago, having stopped any improvements just because they are kinda fine now!” I stubbornly avoided calling her real name, blaming for everything. She was nice to me, but I was afraid to bond with her. Her nice attitude to me might be one more big, fat lie; Max’s image slipped in my head like a nightmare.
“When you remember everything, you’ll understand the whole situation here. It will happen sooner or later, trust me!” Zarya continued, having failed to mention some dangerous gloom in my face. “You ought not to think about the villagers; you should think about your health instead. You might have been injured in ghost accident. Rest for a little bit while I’m making a portal to the castle gardens. We can gather together like in the old days: you, me and Kal. I don’t really want to discuss anything without him.”
I didn’t interrupt her. Just stood listening in the middle of a tiny square, which had been licked by the sun for centuries by the time I came here.
I was not afraid of her, was not I shy in her presence. Not at all, l was angry. Angry, sad, and sarcastic; the worst combination ever. Anger, a dominant leader among three of them, was a perfect tool: it kept on saving me from useless panic; it made me feel sane and capable while I was balancing hopelessly on the edge of my nerves:
“I came here to talk to you, but now I’m happy that we’ve already talked about the well of wrath,” I smiled and she smiled back, thinking that the question is closed. “It made me understand that I don’t like you.” Her smile faded like a radish leaf. “I’m not your Avis, and I don’t want to become her. You were friends and, apparently, you want her back (I can understand it), but I don’t want her to come back. You and Kaleb are fond of strong and powerful Avis, but you don’t like me. You keep telling how weak and pathetic I am. You would rather lock me in the castle chamber rather than show to other people. You are ashamed of present me. But that’s just me, simple me who wants her family back! The unreal past and people were real to me and I want them back, but that is impossible, and I’m grieving for never-existed dear ones!” I stopped, feeling the lump in my throat. “What if remembering everything will erase my identity, change me drastically? I don’t want her memories, and I don’t want to become a better remake of myself just for your pleasure.”
I secretly liked when marigold and blondie looked or felt miserable. It seemed I controlled the situation, trapping them in guilt. Once again I got what I want.
“Avis,” she stammered over my name, “Forgive me. I had no idea you feel this way. When I secretly saw you in another world, you didn’t look happy. I was convinced that it was all because you were in bizarre and unusual environment. I did not realize how strong and toxic the spell was!”
“Don’t bother to explain or give me your excuses, I’ve already created my impressions about you and your rat!” I almost spat it, feeling disgusting pleasure of making her face sad. “Am I a prisoner here?” My unexpected question surprised the mage:
“Absolutely not! It’s your land and castle...”
“Doesn’t it mean I can go wherever I want?” I asked sweetly pretty.
“Exactly so,” Zarya answered, looking shaky, expecting a flip side with me.
“Then why the hell are you dragging me to the castle?” I wrestled the hoodie out of the girl's hand, heading towards a place, I knew not where.
“Where are you going?”
“I’m gonna take a lovely stroll,” I sang, all airs and graces.
“Great idea! I’ll show you everything!” she said eagerly, having made some kind of concession for a poor girl. I stopped and looked at her above the shoulder:
“You are not invited.”
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