young-and beautiful to gaze upon. But William thought
he heard the sound of creaking joints, a sort of arthritic crackle, and there was a
frostiness in her smile that made him shudder.
“Your name?” “William Sweetwater.” She seemed to be perched on a giant mottled toadstool
with an ink
bottle, quill pen, and sheet of parchment at the ready. She wore a black robe. Two black
velvet slippers poked from beneath her garment. A battered wooden staff rested at her
side. The hideous serpent creature was trying its hardest to peek over her shoulder as she
furiously began to scribble, but she took malicious delight in fidgeting this way and that
in order to block its view.
“Race?” “Human.” The maiden frowned and wrote a strange symbol on the
parchment. “Age? ”Thirty-eight.“ ”Where were you born?“ ”Port Balifor."
The comely maiden hissed a smile. “Ah, one of my favorite areas. Your people have been
kind-hearted since the beginning of Krynn. Now, William, do you have any living relatives?”
“No. My mother died when I was a baby.”
“And your father?”
“He was a sailor whose ship was lost. That happened when I was eighteen. There were bad
storms that year.”
“Tragic,” said the maiden, though she was still smiling. “Now, William, have you lived a
life of grace?”
“What does that mean?” “Have you worshipped the true gods in a faithful manner?” William
shook his head, negatively. "I've not given much
thought to worshipping gods.“ The maiden frowned. ”Do you have courage?“ ”I'm a coward,“
answered William truthfully. ”I dream about
doing something brave, but I never do it.“ ”Follow your instincts in matters of courage,"
said the maiden
in a waspish tone. “Now, are you committed to anyone?” “What does that mean?” The maiden
raised an eyebrow. "You know ... do you fiddle-
faddle around with any females?“ ”Women like their men to be handsome. I have a face that
only
a mother could love.“ William's hand moved across his porcine features. ”Folks say a pig
overturned my crib when I was a baby. My face was supposed to have been marked by the
experience."
One of the serpent heads left the reptilian cluster and glided forward to inspect
William's snouted face. Hard, reptilian eyes examined his features as a long forked tongue
darted in and out of the salivating mouth. The mouth of the snake-if indeed, it was a
snake-opened wide, exposing two ghastly fangs. Abruptly, the creature began to guffaw,
horridly, a foul unearthly noise that shook William's fast-beating heart and prompted him
to draw back in horror.
The comely maiden jerked the chain leash, and the serpent monster retreated to its
position, hovering silently, for the moment, behind her.
But she too leaned forward and gazed with more intensity upon William. Her breath is not
felicitous, thought William. Her eyes grew bold and harsh and glitteringly metallic-like.
Reflected in them was a pathetic, shrinking William and the deepening fog and mist.
In general she stinks, thought William, as the maiden drew closer. Perhaps she ought to
consider bathing or perfuming.
The maiden had set down the quill pen and now her fingers were closing around her staff.
As she spoke again, William remembered thinking how suddenly her face had become distorted
and grotesque, how loud and grating her voice had become, like . .
. like metal scraping against the sea bottom. “So, my dear Pig William,” she remarked,
edging forward, "in
other words, you have no relatives, no mate, and nobody fool enough to grieve for you when
you are . . . GONE!"
Her voice broke into harsh, strangled laughter which rose in deafening volume. The
monstrous five-headed serpent, thrashing at its leash, dove to within an arm's-length of
William's face. All five death-heads bared their fangs and slithered closer. William could
smell the
he heard the sound of creaking joints, a sort of arthritic crackle, and there was a
frostiness in her smile that made him shudder.
“Your name?” “William Sweetwater.” She seemed to be perched on a giant mottled toadstool
with an ink
bottle, quill pen, and sheet of parchment at the ready. She wore a black robe. Two black
velvet slippers poked from beneath her garment. A battered wooden staff rested at her
side. The hideous serpent creature was trying its hardest to peek over her shoulder as she
furiously began to scribble, but she took malicious delight in fidgeting this way and that
in order to block its view.
“Race?” “Human.” The maiden frowned and wrote a strange symbol on the
parchment. “Age? ”Thirty-eight.“ ”Where were you born?“ ”Port Balifor."
The comely maiden hissed a smile. “Ah, one of my favorite areas. Your people have been
kind-hearted since the beginning of Krynn. Now, William, do you have any living relatives?”
“No. My mother died when I was a baby.”
“And your father?”
“He was a sailor whose ship was lost. That happened when I was eighteen. There were bad
storms that year.”
“Tragic,” said the maiden, though she was still smiling. “Now, William, have you lived a
life of grace?”
“What does that mean?” “Have you worshipped the true gods in a faithful manner?” William
shook his head, negatively. "I've not given much
thought to worshipping gods.“ The maiden frowned. ”Do you have courage?“ ”I'm a coward,“
answered William truthfully. ”I dream about
doing something brave, but I never do it.“ ”Follow your instincts in matters of courage,"
said the maiden
in a waspish tone. “Now, are you committed to anyone?” “What does that mean?” The maiden
raised an eyebrow. "You know ... do you fiddle-
faddle around with any females?“ ”Women like their men to be handsome. I have a face that
only
a mother could love.“ William's hand moved across his porcine features. ”Folks say a pig
overturned my crib when I was a baby. My face was supposed to have been marked by the
experience."
One of the serpent heads left the reptilian cluster and glided forward to inspect
William's snouted face. Hard, reptilian eyes examined his features as a long forked tongue
darted in and out of the salivating mouth. The mouth of the snake-if indeed, it was a
snake-opened wide, exposing two ghastly fangs. Abruptly, the creature began to guffaw,
horridly, a foul unearthly noise that shook William's fast-beating heart and prompted him
to draw back in horror.
The comely maiden jerked the chain leash, and the serpent monster retreated to its
position, hovering silently, for the moment, behind her.
But she too leaned forward and gazed with more intensity upon William. Her breath is not
felicitous, thought William. Her eyes grew bold and harsh and glitteringly metallic-like.
Reflected in them was a pathetic, shrinking William and the deepening fog and mist.
In general she stinks, thought William, as the maiden drew closer. Perhaps she ought to
consider bathing or perfuming.
The maiden had set down the quill pen and now her fingers were closing around her staff.
As she spoke again, William remembered thinking how suddenly her face had become distorted
and grotesque, how loud and grating her voice had become, like . .
. like metal scraping against the sea bottom. “So, my dear Pig William,” she remarked,
edging forward, "in
other words, you have no relatives, no mate, and nobody fool enough to grieve for you when
you are . . . GONE!"
Her voice broke into harsh, strangled laughter which rose in deafening volume. The
monstrous five-headed serpent, thrashing at its leash, dove to within an arm's-length of
William's face. All five death-heads bared their fangs and slithered closer. William could
smell the
Similar Books
