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Peggy Powler & The Missing Children.
#23
After around five or six of St. Martin's residents discovered what lay ahead of their respective lives, Peggy Powler
placed a silk cloth over the large crystal-ball and told his young assistant that she needed a break. Holding the tent
flap, Kittie Bretton nodded and gave the impression of a confident sentinel.

"Take care lass... me-orb is restin'. Divna' mess around in there" the Witch warned and glanced back into the shade
of the canopy. The hand-stitched mural hanging from a cross-member of the awning seemed too elaborate for such
a quaint little pageant, but Peggy knew it was an excellent lure. The rope was still there, behind where she'd been
seated and disappeared under the tent's fabric.

With the grinning Kittie saluting her new and only friend in the village, the poncho-wearing daughter of a true Fortune
-Teller nodded her respect and stepped out to take in the scene of the Mid-summer festival.

There were gaily-coloured bunting cleverly attached to the surrounding cedars and Peggy noticed no nails were used
to keep the flapping pennants in their place. Folks from Durridge and as far as Kersham were milling about, browsing
at the tables and chatting amiably to the St. Martin's residents who were plying their wares and handing out food.

Standing back to admire Treacle's home-made proclamation of prophetic wonder, the little Witch's eyes tracked over
to where the largest congregation were stood at one the trestles, all of them men. Jack Morgan was nodding vigorously
towards two scruffy chaps who interrupting their orations with a swig from their tankards. Peggy smiled in the knowledge
that the Brewer was doing well.

The guitarist who'd she'd seen earlier was leading a group of small children in a rhyme about soldiers climbing a hill
and the happy faces of those sat on the stunted grass of the lawn made Peggy wonder about the heartbreak that the
dark force beyond the standing-stones had wrought to such an idyllic place.

"So thee be the famous crystal-gazer that we're honoured to have here?" a gravelled-voice asked from behind the focus
of the query. Peggy turned around and surveyed the half-drunken man in oilskins that had seen better days. "Allow me to
introduce myself, I'm..." -but Peggy cut him off in mid-sentence.

"You're Elijah Cole, fair travels" she returned and gave a slight non-committal curtsy whilst keeping a flinty look in her eye.
Peggy wasn't one for those who told yarns about things they knew nothing about. "Do yer' need a reading?" she added
with a dollop of faux interest.

Elijah grinned his gummy-grin and took a gulp from a tankard that -from the look of it, had been dropped many times.
"Nah me-girl, I was wonderin' why thee pitched thy tent so close to the stones of the esteemed Phinneas The Cunning"
he said and punctuated his question with a loud belch.

With a glance towards his fellow beer-consumers, the former sailor of the Great Sea slowly shook his head and explained
his question further. "Thee's only a little thing and I wondered if being in such a reverent place might help to bolster yer'
pocket-sized trade".

Of course, Elijah had heard of Peggy Powler -the last Witch of Underhill before, but he'd always suspected her notoriety
came from people who crossed themselves at road-shrines and offered prayers when the night came down. Now here
he was, standing before a miniature woman in a wide-rimmed hat and feet that looked like they'd never seen a pair of
shoes. Surely his own ocean-going exploits outshone any tales of spooks and silly make-believe magic.

The small necromancer kept her smile from blossoming and checked to see if anyone was in earshot, especially Kittie.
Leaning in close to the old man who courted body-odour like a good friend, Peggy whispered something that caused
the retired fisherman to make the same features as when he and his fellow-crewmen had once found a weird creature
in their nets amongst the flapping Danderheads and Loosejaws.

Even though Elijah's thoughts were more on what the woman in the poncho had actually said, his suddenly white face
spoke of a realisation that a person might make when they pause from peeing in a chamber pot at midnight because
of the blinking eyes in the corner of their bedroom.

A minute later, Peggy Powler was alone again and scanning the moving crowd. Elijah Cole was once more standing
with his ale-friendly comrades, but his flagon remained empty and a drawn look on his face spoke of a knowledge that
would make searching for merriment a difficult task.

'Amateur" Peggy whispered and went to grab a bite to eat.
...................................................

Just after noon, Jane Bowman peeked her head in around the tent flap and surveyed the interior of St. Martin's visiting
prognosticator, her sheepish look warned that any strong invitation would cause her to flee from her daring self-believed
trespass.

"Come in me-friend, come in..." Peggy urged softly from her place behind the gnarled table and lit a coloured candle with
a kitchen match borrowed from Treacle. The flame burned blue, orange and the red, another supernatural attraction that her
magical satchel had provided.

Kittie had asked earlier if the fabled knapsack had ever failed its owner and with a comforting pat on the weathered material,
Peggy had replied in the negative. A glass sphere, chiffon napery and a spooky-looking candle, all there beneath the lappet
when she'd placed her hand in the bag. There as always.

"...It'll be a pleasure to take a gander at what lies ahead fur' yer'" Peggy said as Jane sat down on one of Farmer Bulmer's
chairs. She kept an easy smile on her face, but reckoned if she'd said 'Boo', the Bowman woman would tear a hole in the
ceiling of the tent when she jumped out of her seat.
Jane stared around at the quiet interior as if snakes were waiting everywhere, Peggy idly looked at faint rune markings on
a gossamer silk cloth decorated with red Dragonfly and waited for her customer to relax.

"I...I want to help you get the m-monster that stole my sister" Jane Bowman stuttered and watched the Witch's eyes widen.
Edith Head Gives Good Wardrobe. 


Messages In This Thread
Peggy Powler & The Missing Children. - by BIAD - 04-16-2021, 02:34 PM
RE: Peggy Powler & The Missing Children. - by BIAD - 08-13-2021, 09:50 PM

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