The Gloomcatcher

06: Ginger Lady

    "She will be heartbroken when she'll hear that you're gone. She considers you as her daughter and so do I."

    Ignatious and Calista Bloominshine didn't have a daughter, they had only a son, Trins Bloominshine who was now far away living in Zir Remnyr with his own family and considered visiting his old father and bedridden mother only on rare occasions. Neriath used to visit the Snooty Ooze as a place where she would go at the end of the day for food and some alcohol and with time—a generous helper for blossoming relations, she became their beloved. However, she despised the fact that they found honor in her.

    "I'm not a good human, Ignatious. I can never be a good daughter to you both," she said, unfastening the ropes of two healthy Morgan breed horses and giving one leash of the brown steed to him so he could tug one while she hauled the other, chestnut.

    When she came back in the chamber, Orephnil had everything packed and was now hauling the two knapsacks on his shoulders.

    "Nosdor have mercy, they weigh more than boulders," he complained.

    As they descended the stairs—almost halfway down when Neriath saw men in black, scattered around in the common area, talking to drunken commonfolk or it seemed more of inquiring with strange gestures. It looked as if they had just arrived at the inn because when she had gone up to the chamber after her chat with Ignatious, she hadn't caught sight of them. She immediately nudged Orephnil to tread back up silently on his heels but it was too late.

    "Ya, lass, wait!" Her feet froze at the rough sound. "Turn around, ya both," commanded the voice and they did, although hesitant.

    The knight was a hairy man with a long, black beard and a behemoth of a body cladded in a plain, long robe of black serge, gathered in at the waist with a broad leather belt, from which hung a long dagger and a stout sword.

    The man proceeded to advance towards them like a looming tower of their final doom. Suddenly, the prince beside her became jittery, his arms shaking and he mumbled something incoherent as if he had gone mad all of a sudden. She was almost to shut up his stupid blabbering when he sprinted, headlong, straight back upstairs as though he had grown a tail that had now caught fire. Not knowing what to do, in a beat, she was behind him.

    Darn, this craven.

    "Over here, ya spineless worms! Catch that Manslayer and that boy with her!" growled the hairy knight.

    "What the hell are you doing?" Neriath cried, zooming after the prince.

    "I don't know!"

    She followed the confused prince, hurtling like a cannonball to their chamber, and before she knew he was climbing out of the window, ridiculously. In a fit of fury and rush, she cursed at him and equally the same, he cursed back at her. Tripping, holding the external windowsill, they both climbed down with the help of jutting out edges of the edifice and the foolish men chasing them did the same. She couldn't even catch her breath as Orephnil was bolting back inside the inn like his feet were two never-stopping wheels.

    "Please tell me you do know what you're doing this time!" she yelled at him from behind.

    "I do know!" he replied to her relief.

    "Everybody, everybody!" Inside the tavern, moving his hands rapidly in the air, he gathered everyone's stupified attention. "Let's sing, Ginger Lady!"

    And all of a sudden, all young and old aficionados, frail and strong, man and doyen, ignorant or connoisseurs of music, got on their happy feet, linking their arms, thumping their boots, and roared in a rhythmic pattern. Thump, thump, roar, thump.

    "Ginger Lady, Ginger!
    She walks in the moonlight,
    And men behind meander!
    Ginger Lady, Ginger!
    Oh, Ginger Lady, Ginger!
    She laughs a breathy laugh,
    And everything cinders!
    The nicest of flowers to her,
    Brought the ugly mingers!
    Oh, Ginger Lady, Ginger,
    When she talked for hours,
    The men always lingered!"

    Viltarin's men's voices diminished under the heavy synchronized singing and they could barely comprehend Neriath and the prince's presence in the myriad of jostling heads and jumping feet, the soldiers lost and had no idea of their way out.

    "From here!" Ignatious yanked their arms and pulled them through the back door.

    From the backyard they clambered high onto the horses with their luggage, striving to rein the animals without ensuing loud noises.

    "Vinny and Rinny, my sweet children, now be good to whom you are bearing," told Ignatious to the palfreys, stroking their manes affectionately.

    "I shall give them to Cleet Tippins, a blacksmith. You will find his shop near the Bay. He is a reliable person. Say my name and he will return them to your possession." Ignatious only nodded.

    "Is this farewell then?" he asked, hesitantly.

    She shook her head. "I will come back."

    Filhayal has become almost home to me.

    She pulled the saddle and urged the horse to move forward. At last with a great deal of courage and strength, she said: "Be gentle when you tell Calista."

    Klop, klop, klop, and the horses galloped in the silver night, and behind them, the figure of Ignatious and the Snooty Ooze grew smaller and disappeared as they went further away.

    She could discern ahead, the path that led her to her goal but for some reason, before her eyes, all she could see was Ignatious' twinkling eyes in the moonlight and his white, shining beard. The look of useless hope on his face till the end. Ignatious, old as he was, fed himself on expectancies rather than accepting his fate.

    Regardless, as they rode further in the dark and open, naked to the preying eyes of the unrestricted moon, she was, admittedly leaving the closest thing to a family she ever had. She indeed had become soulless.