41. The plan (2)

They had taken time to eat, drink and relax their arms. William had called it a very enjoyable way to refuel the brooms, and Hilda had ordered him to talk sense once again.

"This area is still pretty safe, William," said Hilda. "People here are not too much under Lamador's influence as this is remote country, not interesting for a high-up sorcerer. Once we get closer to the big villages, he'll be more present."

William nodded, understanding exactly what she meant to say. The plan was bold and they would go for it whilst in the lion's den, so that made it all even more tricky. Compared to Lamador, who had hundreds, if not thousands of Grizbles at his disposal, they were only two strong. But, as William had explained to Hilda, small numbers have the benefit of being able to disappear easily. Something she hoped was true.

Rested and fed, they mounted their brooms again.

The kingdom of Herald was very different from that of Walt, the land that William had gotten to know rather well. There were hardly any large forests. An occasional patch of trees, large areas that consisted of rocky plateaus, wide and fiercefully streaming rivers with high impressive bridges over them. Those were William's main impressions from the land they were flying over.

"The rocky slabs down there used to be mountains," Hilda said, pointing at one of the areas. "Herald has this thing with using rock for homes. Most of the houses in this land are made of rock. They seem to make thinner slabs of it by sawing the rock up, but it is beyond me how they do that."

William nodded. "I would not know how they do it here. I've seen documentaries about sawmills for things like that, but I doubt these exist here."

"Saw mills. William. Please." She looked almost pained as she turned her face to him. "One of these illusionary things from your old world, right?"

"Right. I won't mention them again."

She looked as if she was about to give in. "We'll see."

They approached the first larger village. It was larger indeed, at least six times larger than the one that Hilda lived close to. It wouldn't even be considered small in William's old world.

"What do you think," asked Hilda, "should we go in here?"

William thought quickly. It was not very close to Lamador and the king of this country, but it would give them an opportunity to get a feel for the way people here thought about the sorcerer. "Yes, let's go in."

They swung their brooms downwards and landed a few miles from the village in a spot where there were some large boulders. There, out of sight, they hid their transports beneath a large piece of granite and changed into clothes that would not reveal who they were.

"We may have to adjust the clothes a bit when we get there, I'm not sure if this will work for here. Long ago since I was here," Hilda informed William.

"We'll have to chance it then," he said with a smile.

After making sure the brooms were out of sight for ordinaries, they set to walking towards and then down the road to the village. The road was not really a road, it was merely a wide, worn away dent in the rock, evidence that there had been many thousands of feet, horses and carriages gone over this trail before. There were not many others going into the village and they did not meet anyone that was coming from there. The people they walked among were gentle, calm and friendly. One man with a horse and cart even offered them a ride, but they thanked him and declined. The walk was a welcome change to the hours on the broom. They learnt that the name of the village was Frad. Hilda was not aware of this having a special meaning, so they filed the name under general knowledge.

Entering the village was interesting. For a reason the magical couple could not fathom, the trail split into two lanes, a wide one for the carriages and a narrow one for the pedestrians. There was a wall built over the trail with openings for each lane. Everyone went into the village through one of the openings.

Hilda frowned as she looked at William. He shrugged, this was new for him also. After passing through the opening in the wall, Hilda stepped to the side of the path, pulling William along by a sleeve. "Isn't this silly? You can just as easily walk around the wall and enter the village like that. Nobody's here keeping watch, or counting people, or so."

"I know. I am also puzzled about this. It really makes no sense." William looked along the wooden wall once more but he could not discover anything that would reveal a meaning for this construction.

"Excuse me," a woman asked. She had seen the two talk. "Is there a problem that I might help with?" The woman wore a knitted cap which once had been really white. Her hair was hidden underneath it. Her face was friendly and round, its tan told the couple that the woman spent a fair amount of time outside. Her clothes were remarkably close to what Hilda was wearing, a grey shirt, a wool cardigan and a long wide skirt, made of some thick brown fabric.

"Perhaps," William said, to Hilda's shock. "We were wondering about this wall and why it is here."

The woman nodded. "Yes, so do we. King Herald had decreed that there had to be more art in the land, so he ordered artists from several countries to produce pieces of art, put them where they thought the things would look best, and that is what happened. Since then we are looking at this wall. An ugly thing, isn't it?"

Hilda nodded.

William nodded also. "I wonder why nobody goes around it."

The woman looked at him. "Why should they? The road into the village goes there, which is much more convenient to walk on. Now, I hope you will allow me leave. Enjoy your stay here." With a nod the woman walked on.

The two looked at each other. Nothing to say against that, so they mingled in the crowd and proceeded deeper into the village.

The streets of the village were immensely wide compared to the village at home. The average width was twenty feet. Everything looked clean and orderly. There were hardly people in the street, all the shops and pubs were so large that there was no need for trade in open air.

William shook his head. So sad, he thought, the place looked too clean. Somehow an image of a city under ultimate control came to his mind, the likes of which he had seen in science fiction movies. Movies where some stuck-up dictator type was exerting his power down to the moment and place people would use the bathroom.

They came by a pub.

"Should we go in here?", asked Hilda.

"Sure. This one is as good as any other. It is a really strange place here," William said, to which Hilda nodded.

"It is much different since I was here last. But that is a while ago."

"And how long would that be, then?", asked William as he held the door for her.

"At least 180 years," the witch told him as she stepped into the pub.

"Uh-what?"

But Hilda was inside already, not hearing William's surprise.

The pub looked nice on the inside. It was a real pub, be it just a bit too large to be cozy. There were tables with chairs, all made of grey-green wood. The proprietor had gone through a lot of trouble, putting a candle on each table, and even a small vase with some flowers on most of them. The floor was the inevitable and everpresent rock, which made sense. You could not get a cheaper and more rugged floor than that, and it was easy to clean also.

Hilda and William moved through the pub. There were not many customers at that time, most tables were empty. They chose to sit at a table that was close to the domicile of the proprietor who came to them, asking what he could bring them. As he was almost lyrical about the ale his pub carried, they both ordered a glass of it. When the man had left them, William asked if Hilda would be fine with the beer.

She wiggled her nose and grinned. Of course she would be fine.

The pub owner brought them their glasses. As there was little business, he was eager to strike up a conversation with the two people who were clearly new to the area. "You picked a fine day to visit," he said, "the weather has not been to good over the past days. May I ask what brings you to our village?"

William explained that they were travelling, and that they happened to come by the village. "As it looks very nice here, we really could not pass by without a visit."

"Yes, we are living in a very nice place," the barkeeper said, smiling. "There are several nice spots to visit here also. We have the oldest museum dedicated to the kings of the country. Well, almost the oldest." He made his eyebrows bounce, he was obviously proud of the fact.

"I am one of the caretakers of the museum."

Ah, that explained a lot.

"If you care to visit, you can tell the person at the door that you know Liam. That, of course, would be me."

"Of course," William nodded and took a sip of his beer. "And I must congratulate you on your ale, Liam, it is very good!" And it was.

"Thank you, sir. The museum is right down the street, on your lefthand side-"

"Hey, Liam, start moving your feet, man, our glasses are dry! We are desperate for a refill!" That cry informed Liam of impending doom, so he wished Hilda and William a nice day and quickly made off to the table from where the emergency was about to happen.

"Too bad he was called away, he was very informative," Hilda mumbled in her glass. She knew that William would be able to hear her though.

He nodded. "Maybe we should have a look in that museum. You never know..."

After finishing the beers, Hilda's thoroughly watered down, they left a few silver coins on the table, wished Liam a good day and left the pub.

"Nice man," William agreed.

They walked along the street. Nobody minded them or asked them anything, it was clear that the people from this village were used to having strangers around. They looked at the shops and what there was on display behind the windows. Hilda drooled over some of the dresses, but walked along after not too much pressure from William.

"We can always come back here again," he said, "and then you can look and try them all on if you want."

Hilda clung to his arm. "I hope you're right."

William understood what she meant.

They reached the museum. It was impossible to miss. The street, empty except for the people, suddenly was almost littered with large signs that pointed out with arrows and large words that the passers-by could find the museum of the royals to their left.

"Looks like we managed to find it," William grinned as he steered them towards the entrance.

There was a young man at the entrance to the museum. He had a face that reminded them of a mouse, small and pointy.

"Hello," said William, "we would like to visit the museum. Liam told us it is here."

"Oh. Did he. Two silvers."

"Two silvers, for a look at your dead kings?", Hilda flared up, "do you think that's for real?"

Mouse-face stared at her as he stepped back. "One of them is still alive," he tried.

"Brent. Let these people enter the museum."

Mouse-face startled and looked around to the man that came out of the building. "Gio, you are here."

"Yes, and by the looks of it that is a good thing. You are the scoundrel still, Brent. One more time and you will be on report. Then you can kiss your occupation goodbye."

Mouse-face shrunk as if a basin full of too hot water was poured out over him. He nodded and tried to become even smaller.

"May I be of assistance?", the man that mouse-face had called Gio asked the magical couple.