We begin our tale with a visit from the Dragon Lady herself,
Maleficent.
It was just before dawn. From my
hovel on the mountain’s face I could see the street lamps in the village below
blinking out, one by one, mimicking the stars inky blue sky. Soon the
townspeople would be groaning and stumbling out of bed, off to do their mundane
chores and whine about how they wished they had magic to do their work for them.
Busy day for me. I grinned
gleefully at the prospect.
My
hands and feet returned to my spinning wheel, falling into the steady
rhythm of the peddle propelling the wheel and spinning a thread of finest silk
round and round the spindle. As the wheel turned faster, faces of potential
clients filled the space. I scanned through them absently, finding the plights
of milkmaids and stable hands to be dull and uninspiring. They all bled together
in a homogenous mush of blah.
A rap on my door pulled me from my
concentration. She slithered in, pale skin shimmering softly and piercing eyes
lit expectantly, and sat down in the chair opposite mine. She looked as tempting
as Sin itself. I glared at her, amused.
“Maleficent,” I nodded curtly, “to
what do I owe this immense pleasure?”
“Oh, you know, big fan.” I scoffed and turned my attention back to wheel. Leave it
to a fae to harass me before business hours. Three revolutions passed before she
spoke again, “I am told you’re the man to speak to about certain…pest control.”
“And I am told you are a fairly
competent sorcerous. Why should I help you?”
“Because I am certain you have a
vested interest in my success.”
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