As I walked through the opening of the house, a voice in the dark made me spin on the balls of my feet. I materialized the dagger into my hand.

'Well, aren’t you in a hurry?"

Mother Geslin sat at the table where she talked to Castille. She sucked from a newly lit pipe in her mouth, eying the book under my arm.

"What's happening? Bandits?"

"No. I -"

"Damn, I could've used the company."

She blew out a ring of smoke as I turned to leave.

"Sorry, I have to wake everyone up."

“Whatcha gotta tell them that can't wait six hours? Let them rest. You need some rest, too. Skulking out the house at all hours of the night."

I paused. She noticed me leaving the house. There was more to this woman than her appearances let on.

I sighed.

Of course, there was. This was misdirection. She was hiding in plain sight. What did she want? More importantly, would I have to kill her?

"You're right," I said.

"Of course I am. Sit."

I narrowed my eyes. She wanted me in striking distance.

I took slow steps to the table, my dagger tight in my hand.

Mother Geslin sighed.

"It's going to be so quiet when you all leave. Even that bearded one knows how to shake a bed. I swear if I was thirty years younger…"

I frowned. Her kind of “humour” would make Gren blush.

Mother Geslin let out a dry cackle.

"No one ever tell you bout the birds and the bees. I can teach, ya. Never had the chance to teach anyone, so I could use the practice."

"I find that hard to believe, Mother Geslin."

"Yes, Mother Geslin. That's what the village called me behind my back. I had seven children; none of them lived longer than a day. It was a record."

Stolen story; please report.

I sat at the table, the emotion draining from my face.

A weapon is not sentimental.

"I'm sorry."

She flashed a set of yellow teeth, the base of her gums discoloured to a blueish black.

"Why? They're always with me. I feel them right now."

My face paled as I realized why she walked barefoot around the village.

Her smile twisted into a sneer as she caught my expression.

"You're just like the rest of the village. You think I've gone mad, but you feel it too, right?"

"Feel what?"

"The pain of the dearly departed."

My skin prickled at her words as a burning sensation flowed through my hands.

Mother Geslin took a few puffs on her pipe as she leaned back into her chair.

"See."

You old hag…

"Are you Landbound to this village?"

"Are those words supposed to mean something to me? No, It's just common sense. I can feel them scratching below the surface."

I frowned. She smiled.

"You're looking at me like I'm crazy again."

You’re not fooling me.

"You’re convincing," I lied.

"Aren't I? It's too bad we can't give ourselves names. I would've called myself Clever Geslin."

"I don’t think that name fits."

"Really now? Well, I know why you're here and what you're trying to do. That clever enough for ya?"

I opened my mouth to speak.

"Hush," Mother Geslin said. "I don't know why you're doing what you're doing, and I don't care. I just wanted to say… thank you."

I blinked in surprise.

"Thank you?"

"Yes. For trying. It makes you better than most people."

I squirmed in my chair.

Clever Geslin. How could I chicken out and abandon the quest now?

"How did you know?"

"What? That you lot came here to break the curse or that you were a hair's breadth away from running?"

She smiled again; the pipe clenched tight in between her teeth.

"For one, your party has two, maybe three, mages, yet you didn't know you had to hide your abilities. You and your friends are coming into the Del blind. I've seen it before. Puffed up adventurers with more bravery than sense sniffing after reward money."

She paused, taking a long draw from her pipe and letting the smoke blow out her nose.

"For the other thing, well, I saw the look on your face."

I sighed.

She read me like a book.

"What do you want from me?"

“Two things: I want some company-"

"What, the spirits aren't enough for you?"

She screwed up her face in mild disgust.

"The dead make for poor conversation. Like I was saying, I want some company, and I want you to keep trying."

"You don't understand. There are people after us-"

"So what? I think you can take them. Do you know what I see when I look at you?"

I quirked an eyebrow.

This should be interesting.

"What do you see?"

"Big damn heroes. I get the feeling you lot are our last chance to break this curse before something terrible happens, and my feelings are never wrong."

"What if I'm not a hero?"

"The best kind of hero doesn’t think they are."

Me. A hero? The idea was right out of one of Mr. Reeves’ books. For ten years, I was trained to be a weapon, to become a tool that cut and carved, but the real world had changed that. I had used a dagger to heal, to save a life instead of taking one. What else could I do with power and purpose?

Across the table, Mother Geslin's eyes became glossy with tears. The sudden softness on the woman's face was disturbing.

Sometimes, it takes someone else believing in you to make you believe in yourself. If Mother Geslin looked at me and saw a hero, maybe that's what I was.

"OK, I'll stay and do my best to convince the others."

"Thank you."

Her voice was strained.

I sheathed my dagger and left the room, leaving the old woman to cry alone in the dark.