6. Wine and dine

On the bed lay two stacks with clothes. One of them were his own, William quickly saw, and they were indeed clean. And repaired in some places where they had needed that since a while too. With fascination he looked at the garments on the other stack.

The thing that attracted most of his attention was a leather jerkin with pompous thicks shoulderpieces along the side. It was an amazing piece of work to see and hold. The stitchwork was unbelievably precise, the garment itself was made of the finest leather in two shades of dark brown leather, one a bit lighter, the other darker and leaning towards blood red.

Next item was a beige shirt. It had long sleeves and an wide neck that could be tied up with a thin leather strap.

Then there was a pair of grey-ish velvet pants, with a brown leather belt to keep it in place.

Next to the bed were his shoes and a pair of ankle-high brown boots, with fringes.

"Right. So that is 'wear the others'," William understood. "Probably more geared towards local fashion." With a grin he started putting on the exotic-looking attire, after putting on his own underwear. That was very much missing from 'the other' clothes, and he was used to that.

After he had finished dressing up, he looked around for a mirror. Alas. There was none. As his eyes went around the room for the second time, a soft singing sound reached his ears. He identified it as the sound of the crystal ball. Somehow that little gem had found its way to the table, the light in it dancing frantically.

William bent over to the shiny object and to his amazement he saw himself reflected in it. Despite the limited size of the ball he saw himself clearly. "Holy Bejeebus, you can do more than relay calls between worlds, can't you?", he grinned. Satisfied with his looks, he opened the door and found his way down the stairs.

Again the pictures looked at him as he went by. This time he looked back at them.

"Oh. There you are." Hilda looked at William as he came into the room. "Dinner's busy."

She had done something to her hair of which she hoped it was good, and wore one of her better burgundy red dresses, made of heavy velvet, with a nice round neck. The dress fell down to her ankles in long flowing lines. A slight touch of magic made it flow just a bit slower than usual, adding a wonderful dramatic effect to the fabric. The dress itself had a fascinating pattern of deep coppery red brocade on it, that appeared to be changing all the time, like a mosaic. She wore her magical necklace too.

As she sat at the table, William saw she was trying to do something unclear to a small piece of wood that had several holes in it. There was also some smoke coming from a few scorched places on it.

"Dinner's... busy?" William frowned at the strange combination of 'dinner' and 'busy'.

"Yup. You can go and watch it if you want, but it's boring. Kitchen's back there." Hilda pointed to an open door.

He nodded and started towards the kitchen, when Hilda said: "Hey."

William turned. "What can I do for you?"

"Nothing. You look good in that." Hilda nodded and went back to damaging the piece of wood. "Better than the silly stuff you wore when you got here."

Silly stuff. His expensive suit was instantly demoted to silly stuff. Okay, it wasn't Armani as that was over his budget, but... He shrugged. "Thank you," he said. Then, with a grin, he turned and went to have a look at the kitchen where dinner was supposed to be busy.

Dinner was indeed busy. A modern kitchen with all conveniences could not beat this one, even though there was no electric thing in sight. The stove was covered in pots and pans, spoons stirring the contents. A piece of meat hung over a fire and turned itself, as a wooden spoon kept pouring gravy over it so the meat would not dry out.

A set of knives were chopping up vegetables and in some places there were other utensils doing things that William had no idea of. He returned to the black table and sat down on a chair opposite Hilda. "Dinner is indeed busy. Very busy."

She nodded as she peered at the remains of the wood. "I am not used to cooking for more than one person, so I just took some guesses."

William grinned. It seemed to be about all that he did there. He watched Hilda as the piece of wood incinerated more and more. "What are you doing?"

"Magic. And it's difficult so shut up."

William complied with her order and just watched. He noticed the necklace, the one she had recovered from the hands of the motorgang.

Hilda slammed the wood on the table. "What are you looking at?"

William had never before heard someone talk in a way that made unease and being annoyed physically tangible.

The goldfish looked at each other and spread out, one to each side of the teacup, to see what would happen next.

Before William could reply, a large meat-cleaver flew through the room and landed smack in the middle of the table. He fell over backwards, crashing onto the hardwood floor, evoking a heartfelt 'oompf'.

"Don't exaggerate," Hilda said, "it's just that dinner's ready." With a snort she yanked the cleaver from the table, got up and went to the kitchen, returning with two plates of hot steaming food in her wake.

William was still getting up and putting the chair back in its rightful place. Again he stared, now at the plates that landed themselves on the table and forks materialising. "This is some fabulous household," he said, sitting down.

Hilda sat down, leaned her elbows on the table and rested her face on her fists. She looked at the man who had so suddenly appeared here. "I really wonder why you are here," she said. "I have enough on my hands already, so I hope you understand that I can't be a wonderful host for you, if you are hoping for one."

"I don't know why I am here either," William said. "I don't even know how I got here, or how I can go back. Bert will be rather annoyed too, by now."

"Bert?"

"The owner of the bookstore. I had a dinner appointment with him. Don't you remember him? You floored him with a big book, just before you came out to find me."

Hilda smiled a big, bright smile. "Oh, right. Him. Had forgotten his name. Was quite a whack I gave him, yeah."

They picked up their forks and as they were eating they reminisced about the time that Hilda had appeared in William's world, and how they had met in the coffee house at last. William had owned a large ancient book with spells that had enabled Hilda to return to her own world again, leaving the crystal ball she had created in William's truck. It had been the only tangible memory he had left from their encounter.

Hilda relaxed a bit. She had been tensing up more and more, with the unwanted and unexpected visitor in her house, but now, over dinner and through the talking, she was feeling less upset about him.

"William," she asked as they were well on their way through the food. "Do you want some wine?"

"I'd really like some, yes." He was instantly curious to what this world had to offer in wine.

Hilda nodded, made her wand appear, and with that she produced two glasses of wine. She shoved one over to him, and then magicked up a bottle of water to dilute her own.

"Why are you doing that?", William asked. Wine with water was like cursing in a holy place to him.

"I don't take well to much alcohol," Hilda confided. She almost whispered it, which was totally unneeded, as the goldfish as well as the house were already aware of this fact.

"Okay," William whispered and put a finger over his lips. "I won't tell anyone."

"No problem if you do, everyone knows already," Hilda whispered back and took a sip from her wine.

William tasted the wine. "Jeebus," he said, "that is a fantastic wine. Where I come from, you pay through the nose if you want to get a bottle that comes close to this."

"You think so?", Hilda asked, charging her plate again.

"Oh yes, I am certain." William took another sip in appreciation.

They finished their food, after which Hilda offered him another round. "There is plenty, I think. If you want two plates, that's no problem either."

"I don't want to be impolite, but no thank you. I am almost bursting at the seams," said William.

Hilda looked over the table to inspect him and his clothing, and decided he was exaggerating again. No signs of ripping in his clothes. "Okay." A flick of the wand later the plates were gone and the wine glasses were filled again. The wicked witch had already made a load of burning candles appear earlier, as darkness had taken over the outside world.

William looked at the woman with the long grey hair and the jet-black eyes, who sat there toying with her glass, staring into it. She had a pretty face, he had already agreed on that with himself long time ago. Not a ravishing beauty, but definitely pretty. He was fascinated by the way she expressed herself, sometimes hard as a rock, yet occasionally she struck him as uncertain or immature. But, he thought, that could come from her not having people staying that often.

The candlelight made her features look soft, so very unlike how she was.

"What are you looking at?", Hilda asked without taking her eyes from the glass.

"You."

"Don't."

"Why not?", William asked.

"I don't like it when people look at me. Not like that."

"Not like what?", William dared to ask.

"Like I am a person worth looking at for the looking. I am not. I am a witch, and I want people to look at me in awe. Or with fear. Not for..." She could not find the proper word, or didn't want to find it. "Just so you know."

"Fair enough," William agreed. "Maybe you want to tell me what's on your mind then? You've mentioned something like that a few times already, so it must be something big."

Hilda looked at him and sighed. She reached over the table and picked up a piece of paper from the small mountain that was there. "Here."

William took the paper, looked at the emblem, felt the consistency of the paper and wondered what it was made of. Then he read the calligraphically written note, all the way down to 'to the death'. "Oh, right. I would not feel too tickled with that hanging over my head..."

"I've had more of those before. Got out of them alive," Hilda said, trying to make it sound as if it was not a big deal.

"And yet you are worked up about this one," William said.

It was exactly the thing she did not really want any ordinary to know. But then, she reasoned with herself, William was not your average ordinary. He was, after all, the person who had been crucial in her returning home so many years ago.

"Lamador is a powerful sorcerer. Powerhungry even. And he's spending far too much time on becoming even more powerful. I don't know what drives him. It can't be king Herald, that guy's powerful and wealthy enough." Hilda filled their glasses again.

William rubbed his chin. As he moved, Hilda's eyes were glued to his hand for a moment, then she watched her glass again. "Has it appeared to you that perhaps this Labrador has gained power over king Herald, and that this king is only a puppet in the sorcerer's play?"

"Lamador. Not Labrador," Hilda said. She thought of what William had said. "You might have a point there," she nodded, "it would not be beyond Lamador to cast a spell over his king in order to expand his power even more."

She looked at William. "Is it warm in here or what?" The wicked witch touched her cheeks. "Ooh, very warm... I should go open a window or so..."

As she tried to get up, it was as if suddenly lead was delivered into her legs. She had to grab hold of the table so she could remain on her feet. "Oh, crappedy crap," she groaned. She had forgotten to dilute her last couple of glasses of wine and now she was paying for the price.

Hilda fell back in her chair and groaned some more. "All your fault," she said accusingly to William. "Without you I would not have drunk so much and talked so much and maybe found a problem to my solution- oh wait... that should be the other way round. I think."

The witch had for certain hit the bottle in the right way, which to her was the worst way imaginable: she was drunk.

Hilda shook her hand, hoping for a wand to appear. That could get the alcohol out of her. Alas, the alcohol had temporarily disabled her ability to summon the wand, so she was facing the ultimate catch-22.

"No... no... I don't want this..." She stared at William. "I don't want to feel like this, William. Make it go away, yes?" Again she struggled herself up from the chair, and this time she appeared to succeed, but attempting a step forward proved too daunting a task. Hilda stumbled and fell over the table, grabbing at anything that could give her some hold before she would slide down to the floor.

William had quickly reached out and caught her hand in his, holding her onto the table that way. He got up, holding her hand, and then wrapped an arm around her. He lifted the skinny witch up from the table and held her so she could stand up. It was obvious that without help she was not going anywhere but to the floor.

"No, William, you cannot hold me like that," Hilda muttered as she tried to pluck his arm away from her. She could just as well attempt to lift a mountain; her strength had left her completely. "I am a witch, you know, a very wicked witch."

"I think you are a very drunk witch at the moment, Hilda, and I should get you to bed," William calmly said. "So if you tell me where to take you, I'll make sure you get there safe and well."

"No! You cannot go into my bedroom!", she shouted, once more trying to free herself from the arm.

As the attempt failed again, she turned around in his arm, so she faced him. She put her hands on his shoulders. "Now listen- Oh... strong shoulders. Did you know you have strong shoulders, William?" She started giggling as she squeezed the man's arms. "You are strong, William, but you cannot carry a witch to her bed. No no no, you cannot- whoops!"

William had lifted her up in his arms and was walking towards the stairs. This was a tricky thing as there were no candles anywhere. Nor a lightswitch.

"Hello, house, can you supply some light here?", William gave it a try.

The house remained silent, and the book salesman took that as a no.

"Oh, lights," Hilda giggled as she let herself hang loose , sprawled in his arms. "Wheeee!"

She moved her hands a bit and suddenly colourful sparkles floated around them. It was not exactly the light William had hoped for but it would suffice to get the witch up the stairs.

"Hilda, you have to sit up a bit and put an arm around my neck," he said, "otherwise your head will hit the wall."

"Okay, okay," she mock muttered, pulling herself up on his arm. "But don't worry, I have a hard head William." Her speech was getting more and more difficult to understand. She snuggled against him, her arms around his neck, her head bobbing against his shoulder as he walked up the stairs. By the time he reached the small hallway on the top floor, Hilda was sound asleep.

"Great," William mumbled to himself, looking at the plenitude of doors that were still visible in the fading light of the sparkles that were dying away. "Which door..."

The house was not asleep. It opened the door to the bedroom of the wicked witch.

"Thanks," William whispered. He slowly went into the room, hit his knee against the bed and, having found it that way, he lay Hilda down. In a corner was a small floating stick with a single flame. William used that to light a candle.

With that light at hand, he straightened Hilda's dress as well as he could, pulled the covers over her after taking off her shoes, and then blew out the candle again. He left the bedroom, closed the door behind him quietly, and repaired to his own room.

All the strange events of the day kept him awake for a long time.