Chapter 1 - A Twist of Fate.

Devon stared lazily ahead as his small wagon was gently jostled by the old road. Golly stamped steadily forward. She was an old horse and hardly needed his touch on the reigns or a smack on the bottom to keep apace. She was the pace.

The day was beautiful, warm and humid. A slight pressure on his skin told him that it would rain in the evening. It delighted him. He hadn't heard the spoken rain in awhile and the thought of it made him croak longingly.

He crested a hill and looked out over the slightly rolling meadows, dotted with copses and the occasional farm. The Stahruut liked to live spread out and the landscape for miles was meticulously tended. It was safe; a tamed land. And his people got along well with the Stahruut as long as they paid lip service to their religion and other customs.

Devon knew them well. Long had he traded among them, traveling from town to village to farm to outpost and castle. They knew him as Devon the Matchmaker. Matching product to person with ease. He had his enchanted wagon to thank for that and his miserly and crafty ways. It was easy to take the trash of one and update it to the treasure of another.

Down the hill they went and around a bend, trees on either side. Wildlife was suddenly all around him. Peaking out from behind trees and flittering from branch to branch.

Then he felt a different pressure on his skin. It sent a tingling jolt from the tips of his webbed feet to the tips of his webbed hands and face. Golly turned her head and looked at him, displeased with his tension on the reigns. Or maybe she felt it too. Peering down the road, he saw in the distance a short figure. The pressure intensified, and he felt an uncertain dread.

After several terrible minutes he slowed Golly to a stop and got a good look at the figure. It stood at two-feet-nothing and wore a wide brimmed, conical hat. It was a faded purple and it had a band of black at the base. Tied expertly to the band was a white bow. The tip of the hat was sagged in a pout.

The figure raised its head, sweeping the brim of the hat back to reveal an... elven toddler? Her complexion was that of toasted bread. Her eyes were a spear's sky blue, piercing and no-nonsense. Her nose was pointy, slightly bent and a little upturned. Her pointy ears jutted out on either side of her head from wild red hair and were squished downward by her hat.

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On one freckled cheek was a darkening bruise. Her face was dirty. Her simple, homespun girl's dress was mud-caked and in disrepair. She was barefoot and he could smell her from where he sat on his cart. Overall, it was a very petulant look. He just stared at her. Then his merchant's instincts went into full alert.

"Hark! The rain meets the earth!" He said in the common tongue, after Stahruut custom.

"Rain Speaker, can you help me?" She replied in his tongue, her inflection and accent perfect. He stared at her more, goggle-eyed.

Then he said, the words unbidden "A witch..." He had said it in Rain Speaker. [ 'witch' would be what it would translate into in the common tongue, except his people's exact words describe it as "someone who brings ruin."]

He felt embarrassed and taken aback, but the witch only gritted her teeth and continued in perfect Rain Speaker, "the Stahruut do not seem to like me. They threw turnips at me and chased me through the street."

She plucked at her dress as if to illustrate the point. Then she seemed to realize herself and curtsied.

"I'm Mother Circe. Please help me." Her angelic face pleaded.

Devon reached out a hand and helped the toddler into the seat beside him. He didn't know what those Stahruut were thinking, but he was taught that you help people in need! And you don't treat the little ones like this! Even if they are a... a witch.

"After all this time, why does this happen now? What is He thinking?" He heard her muttering to herself as she settled in, taking her hat off and looking around the compartment.

"What?" Devon said as he signaled Golly to begin her steady walk.

"That bastard [one who denies water], if He's off playing one of His games again I'll pin him on a hot rock in the sun!" She said more forcefully.

His people's words coming out of her tiny frame unnerved him to silence. It was eerie. He wasn't even sure she possessed the organ responsible for half the sounds she was making. Golly made an upset sound and he snapped his head to her. His grip on the reigns was all wrong. He made a resigned ribbit and promised to himself that he'd give her an extra apple with tonight's rain.

Mother Circe then said, "Where's your Rain Bringer?"

"Gone, Mother" Devon croaked out sadly. "Shattered. The usual way. The usual reason."

"Those misguided children. I'm sorry, master Rain Speaker." She turned her face up to him. She was crying.

He put his hand on he her head and said "There's a place I know up here that we can stay the night at. I'll get you some fresh clothes and some shoes. And a bath." He tried to sound happy.

She tried to laugh. "Thank you. Um?"

"It's Devon, Mother, Devon the Matchmaker. At your service, ma'am."