Madeline woke up in a dark mayor’s office. The stars were out on a cloudless night, she knew this because of the gaping hole in ceiling. What had she done? What had she been thinking, getting ready to attack the mayor and magistrate… how had she done that? She had used her raw manna to levitate off the floor, her ached. Where had everyone gone, was Mattie ok? Had they killed him and just left her asleep in a chair?
She got to her feet, anger pushing the headache away as she walked the ran out of the door, she wasn’t sure of the hour but even late at night there should be someone about or a light in a window. She ran towards the stables, if the magistrate thought he could just kill her love and ride away he was mistaken. As she drew close to the stables she saw light and heard voices coming from the pub. Maybe someone there would have answers. She barged through the open doors and saw the magistrate with his shirt stripped off, standing on a table, a tankard in one hand and his staff in the other giving some kind of speech. The pub was packed by the village elders and family heads who laughed and jeered as they hung on the magistrate’s words.
“.. and ‘er I was, my last robe in the clutches of woman of the evenin as she ran out of my tent and left me with thu fire maji!” the crowd jeered and cheered at that as the magistrate took another drink from his tankard, spilling some down his chest. “He woulda ‘ad me, but ‘e was so distracted by the magnificent,” at this point he paused to outline what he meant with one hand, “beauty running away…. What was I to do? Eh? What was I to do? I pulled out a knife from under my pillow and stabbed ‘em good!” more cheers greeted that as men pounded on their tables as the magistrate executed a series of stabs punctuated by another drink.
Typical men. The healer thought as she slid herself along the back wall, she would have to wait for him to be alone.
“AND. Not, not and, but! Butt, not fast enough! ‘ith his lasht’ breath he cast, sticky flames!” the magistrate exclaimed, and produced a foot wide fireball in front of him, that of course earned him more cheers.
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“Thays not a real real spell, is it?” somebody at the same table as him asked.
“Course it is! Burned my britches right off me! Or would ‘ave if I din take ‘em off first!” the magistrate laughed with everyone else and went to take another gulp of drink only to discover an empty mug. “Ayme emtah! One more round on me! We drink to the head wound!”
That got another round of even more boisterous table slapping and the whole pub called out “to the head wound” and downed their drinks. There was a great deal of milling around as men passed around empty and full tankards, a man pressed a mug of mead into Madeline’s hands. For just a moment, as a barkeep was handing a filled mug up to the magistrate, the crowd parted and Madeline saw the man who held her heart on a string sitting at the table the magistrate was standing on, arm in arm with the mayor. Drunk as a skunk, laughing and cheering. Relief warred with anger. Typical. HE left her unconscious, put to sleep with a skill, and ran of to drink. This wonderful idiot of a man left room for no others in her heart, even angry she knew she would forgive him, but for now it was time to teach him a lesson.
Unaware of the brewing situation, the magistrate continued to slur his way through his tale. “And! And so I was there, the last mage in thu pass o’ Klaxor! I ran! Ran to the wall and on the other side, bread out as nice as pies, the barbarian hoard!” This drew boos from the pub, “Not one of their maji left that could face ME! I!..” He trailed off as he saw the healer approach
She marched up to his table, the crowd parted for her and the room hushed to whispers, he looked up at her and smiled, her heart skipped a beat and she resisted the urge to hug him, relieved that he was well. Then he opened his mouth to ruin it, and drunkenly drawled, “hello shugar!” Sugar? He had never called her that before, when had he even learned to talk like those puffed-up fools at the healer’s college?
Just then mayor raised his tankard and cheered, “To the healer! The healer of the head wound!” the rest of the pub echoed “TO THE HEALER!” as they drank to her.
Mattie had already had enough drink and didn’t even raise his mug, “Aren't you going to drink a toast to me, sugar?” Madeline asked in a dangerous tone. “Here, let me help.” She lifted his mug from the table and dumped it over his head, this caused roars of laughter from the crowd, Mattie spluttered and gasped, then grinned and fell off his chair.
“To fool men everywhere who don’t know what's good for them!” She said, then raised her mug to her own lips and proceeded to drain her mug in one go. That drew even more cheers from the crowd.
Someone broke out a fiddle and somebody else brought a flute, the mayor sent off for his hurdy-gurdy and the whole pub cheered as music and singing carried on late into the night.