Willows

This is written to ysabetwordsmith's first prompt.  It follows on from Unexpected Rewards.

Tarascotti’s wives were taking him to a Trideian manse for the winter.  They were travelling by horseback which he found an agreeable luxury, he could rarely afford a horse’s upkeep and would rather keep the coin aside for the lean times anyway.  Priestesses, it seemed, had more resources than wandering drui for hire.  Katinka was leading the way several horse lengths ahead on a brown mare, while Ellabetta was bringing up the rear on a much heavier black gelding.  Sofia rode companionably beside him on a sorrel mare while he was astride a darker chestnut gelding.

He was still getting used to being married.  The whole idea of three wives and his presence at the wedding not being necessary still seemed extremely strange to him, but they had certainly nursed him back to health after his near fatal encounter with the bear.  Ellabetta had replaced almost all his clothes, the bear having destroyed nearly everything, and he was rather pleased with her efforts.  As for spousal relations, well, none of the girls were shy and they didn’t seem to get jealous of each other but Tarrascotti wasn’t used to sustained, interested female company.

They were coming out of the woods into the farmland around the river, the fume from the waterfall just visible at the bottom of the cliff, when Katinka held up her hand signalling a stop.  When she rode back to them, Ellabetta having come up from behind, they could see she was worried.

“Willow song,” she spat out in her delightful accent, “and we came this way to avoid Grandfather Willow in the valley above the falls.  It doesn’t look like somewhere under a blackheart’s influence, but it’s definitely willow song.”

“Let me see if I can hear what it’s saying,” Tarrascotti offered, climbing down from his horse and walking forward to the edge of the trees.  The dip of the river valley lay before him, mainly farmland with the river marked by autumn yellow willow trees.  He cast his spell on himself, then listened to the web of wind, root and leaf and finally began to speak what he could hear.  “Milking cows stay in your fields and eat your grass; farmer cut here and here for your fence wood and some will grow into a tree in place; basket weaver, take you branches from here and let the light into the tree; wise woman, these are the best trees for the bark you need put aside for winter; and sweet, brown-skinned boys fishing for your dinner, don’t let the old pike pull you in!”

“It’s a whiteheart,” Katinka took a deep breath in, “I’ve never seen one before.”

Willows

This is written to ysabetwordsmith's first prompt.  It follows on from Unexpected Rewards.

Tarascotti’s wives were taking him to a Trideian manse for the winter.  They were travelling by horseback which he found an agreeable luxury, he could rarely afford a horse’s upkeep and would rather keep the coin aside for the lean times anyway.  Priestesses, it seemed, had more resources than wandering drui for hire.  Katinka was leading the way several horse lengths ahead on a brown mare, while Ellabetta was bringing up the rear on a much heavier black gelding.  Sofia rode companionably beside him on a sorrel mare while he was astride a darker chestnut gelding.

He was still getting used to being married.  The whole idea of three wives and his presence at the wedding not being necessary still seemed extremely strange to him, but they had certainly nursed him back to health after his near fatal encounter with the bear.  Ellabetta had replaced almost all his clothes, the bear having destroyed nearly everything, and he was rather pleased with her efforts.  As for spousal relations, well, none of the girls were shy and they didn’t seem to get jealous of each other but Tarrascotti wasn’t used to sustained, interested female company.

They were coming out of the woods into the farmland around the river, the fume from the waterfall just visible at the bottom of the cliff, when Katinka held up her hand signalling a stop.  When she rode back to them, Ellabetta having come up from behind, they could see she was worried.

“Willow song,” she spat out in her delightful accent, “and we came this way to avoid Grandfather Willow in the valley above the falls.  It doesn’t look like somewhere under a blackheart’s influence, but it’s definitely willow song.”

“Let me see if I can hear what it’s saying,” Tarrascotti offered, climbing down from his horse and walking forward to the edge of the trees.  The dip of the river valley lay before him, mainly farmland with the river marked by autumn yellow willow trees.  He cast his spell on himself, then listened to the web of wind, root and leaf and finally began to speak what he could hear.  “Milking cows stay in your fields and eat your grass; farmer cut here and here for your fence wood and some will grow into a tree in place; basket weaver, take you branches from here and let the light into the tree; wise woman, these are the best trees for the bark you need put aside for winter; and sweet, brown-skinned boys fishing for your dinner, don’t let the old pike pull you in!”

“It’s a whiteheart,” Katinka took a deep breath in, “I’ve never seen one before.”

It Was In All The Papers

I have written this to aldersprig's second prompt.

Gunther looked at the kitchen bench, his cup in his hand and an empty feeling in his stomach.  There wasn’t going to be any coffee.

Back at his desk, the computer still wasn’t working.

The floor administrator was walking from row to row explaining that the desk phones, computers, elevators and photocopiers weren’t working.  She didn’t say anything about the lights and air conditioning in case she hexed them.

Someone propped open the fire door and walked down fourteen floors to let the electrician in.

The important client declined to be put off by the big cheeses and climbed the stairs after the electrician.  He emerged from the fires escape and looked around, hardly breathing hard at all.  It was an interesting scene.

Human resources were looking for a hard copy of the safety regulations to see at what point they had to send the staff home.  Half the staff were on their work mobiles using variations of, “I’m sorry, I can’t get that information right now.  May I have your details so I can call you back when it’s available?”  Three people who had instant coffee had people lining up at their desks for spoonfuls.  The ‘fashionistas’ were tracing their feet and working out who they could send to buy them cheap flats so they could get to ground level.  The big cheeses were giving each other contradictory instructions while the office manager and the presenter carted an old easel and butcher’s paper into the meeting room.

The electrician was thoroughly confused for the rest of the day as job after job was the same.

The important client employed the firm but refused to deal with the big cheeses and was on first name terms with the office manager and the presenter within six months.  By then everything that had stopped working, including the coffee maker, had been replaced.

Eventually someone worked it out but no-one wanted to believe it.  It was the headlines on the day the coffee maker died, “Astrogard Electronics Ceases Operations” and nothing they’d made, not a fuse or circuit, ever worked again.

It Was In All The Papers

I have written this to aldersprig's second prompt.

Gunther looked at the kitchen bench, his cup in his hand and an empty feeling in his stomach.  There wasn’t going to be any coffee.

Back at his desk, the computer still wasn’t working.

The floor administrator was walking from row to row explaining that the desk phones, computers, elevators and photocopiers weren’t working.  She didn’t say anything about the lights and air conditioning in case she hexed them.

Someone propped open the fire door and walked down fourteen floors to let the electrician in.

The important client declined to be put off by the big cheeses and climbed the stairs after the electrician.  He emerged from the fires escape and looked around, hardly breathing hard at all.  It was an interesting scene.

Human resources were looking for a hard copy of the safety regulations to see at what point they had to send the staff home.  Half the staff were on their work mobiles using variations of, “I’m sorry, I can’t get that information right now.  May I have your details so I can call you back when it’s available?”  Three people who had instant coffee had people lining up at their desks for spoonfuls.  The ‘fashionistas’ were tracing their feet and working out who they could send to buy them cheap flats so they could get to ground level.  The big cheeses were giving each other contradictory instructions while the office manager and the presenter carted an old easel and butcher’s paper into the meeting room.

The electrician was thoroughly confused for the rest of the day as job after job was the same.

The important client employed the firm but refused to deal with the big cheeses and was on first name terms with the office manager and the presenter within six months.  By then everything that had stopped working, including the coffee maker, had been replaced.

Eventually someone worked it out but no-one wanted to believe it.  It was the headlines on the day the coffee maker died, “Astrogard Electronics Ceases Operations” and nothing they’d made, not a fuse or circuit, ever worked again.