Strawberry Bliss

“Eat slowly,” Clara coaxed.

The strawberries were bliss. Further sweetened and preserved by the antibacterial properties of added honey, the thick, chunky jam nearly spiraled Anna into a deliciousness daze, her ravenous body slammed by an overwhelming wave of relief. She chewed slowly as directed, both to savor the flavorful fireworks and to avoid choking.

The bread was another matter, the crust hard, the inside dense and chewy. Anna had to work to get it safe enough to swallow. A drink of tea helped immensely.

Clara refilled Anna’s cup. Clearly, a kind woman. Great with fruit preserves. Not so great at baking.

Anna drained the cup. “With the trapped necromancer now gone, why don’t my memories return?”

“Maybe the stylus was not the culprit.”

“The nobility?”

“That would be my first guess.” Clara filled the cup again. “You should let it seep some this time.” She started slathering another slab of the dense bread with more strawberry preserve drawn from a small glazed earthenware crock.

“If I died in my home world and managed to return, would I die again?”

“Seems plausible.”

“Should I not return then?”

“Only you can make that decision. But there are some things to consider. First, are you certain that you died? Or are you assuming it?” She paused to let Anna think about that. “Second, you do not naturally belong in this realm, so as long as you are present, you are distorting nature.”

Anna twisted her mouth to one side, stumped. “What should I do?”

“Avoid making abrupt decisions. Instead let us take care of your basic needs. Once you have finished eating, bathed, and had a good night’s sleep, only then should you try to make up your mind.”

The kitchen’s back door latch rattled.

Anna forgot to lock it behind herself!

It clicked.

Anna spun atop the stool, facing the threat as the door opened inwards, revealing Clayton with flushed cheeks and bright, glassy eyes. He stared at the pair.

“Mother,” he said, louder than normal. “I see you have met Anna.”

Clara’s face brightened at first sight, then dimmed in realizing Clayton’s inebriated state.

“She is fifty, you know. Looks pretty great, huh!”

“Clayton,” Clara chided softly. “Manners.”

He stumbled towards the table as Anna stood. She thought to secure the door, but seeing Clayton’s state, she helped him first take a seat atop the stool before he could accidentally fall. He swayed momentarily even while sitting, staring at Clara as if expecting her to say something.

“Shocked, you are not giving me grief for coming back, after I said I was leaving to be a witch hunter.”

“You are always welcome home.”

Clayton looked away, turning redder with shame.

“We can speak more of this later if you wish, in private. But we have a guest.”

Anna stepped across the room, quietly closing and locking the door. “It’s all right,” Anna offered, turning to Clara. “You’ve already been so gracious. If I could rest someplace until morning? Then I’ll be out of your hair.”

“No,” Clara’s tone firmed. “Sit with us. Eat. Drink. Recover. Do not let my son’s rudeness make things harder for you. I suspect there will be many challenges tomorrow. Take what comfort you can tonight."

Clayton picked up the strawberry slathered slab prepared for Anna, tearing into it hungrily. “You always put out the best for guests,” he said, mouth full.

“I have no way to repay you for your kindness,” Anna admitted humbly.

“It is important that we always be kind to others.” Clara’s attention lovingly focused on Clayton as he coughed on the bread before gulping down Anna’s tea. “Besides, you brought my son home safely. For that I am incredibly grateful.”

“No biggy.” Anna sat down on the bench on Clara’s left, finding her missing right hand too discomforting to be beside.

“I have to imagine the opposite. Witch hunters are aggressive. If they caught up to you, it was probably life or death. And you having death magic, they really stood no chance.”

Anna looked away. “It’s fine.”

“I disagree.” As Clayton set down Anna’s cup, Clara retrieved it, filling it with hot water. She took the mint from her cup and placed it in Anna’s then slid it in front of her. “Correct me if I am wrong. You could have used death magic on the hunters but you chose not to, even if it meant possibly dying.”

Clara filled her own cup with hot water, setting it in front of Clayton.

“Why does mine have to be plain water?” he whined.

“I will get some more mint shortly.”

Clara looked to Anna for an answer.

Anna remained silent, feeling uncomfortable regarding the conversation.

“You could have killed the hunters, including Clayton, but you spared him. Your life was at stake but you put my child’s safety above your own.” Clara’s eyes filled with tears. “You are a good person Anna.”

“If I am a good person, then why do I only have death magic?” Anna shook her head. “It seems counter intuitive. Good people wear white and heal. Evil people wear black and kill.” She looked at the drying frame. “I have a black pall and death magic. Am I destined to be evil?”

“That is a simplistic and reasonable fear. But-” Clara picked up the stylus off the table. “-this is black. So is it evil?”

“The trapped necromancer was.”

“But the object itself?” She set it back down.

Anna shook her head again. “No. It’s basically a container.”

“Your pall is like a container. Just because it is black, does not mean anything about you.”

“But what about my death magic?”

“Did the trapped necromancer ever use death magic for good?”

“Well, he did help us escape the catacombs. But…”

“Why the reservation?”

“He used the skeletons of the dead to build a ladder. He desecrated their remains.”

The knife rasped as Clara cut another slab off the bread brick. Flipped face up on the bread board, she slathered it with strawberries. Clayton reached out. “No, wait your turn,” she softly scolded.

The bread was placed on the table in front of Anna. “Do you think those who gave up their bones to help you escape would have been willing to, if properly asked?” The knife tip dipped, indicating a hostesses’ gentle request to eat before cutting a slab for Clayton.

“...Maybe?”

“Death magic is immensely powerful. Maybe the most powerful magic of all. If anyone is going to be entrusted with something like that, then only those who are the most responsible and compassionate should wield it.”

Anna stared at the bread. ‘The most powerful magic of all?’

“I don’t find that particularly reassuring.”

“Whomever brought you here, I suspect they were very careful about how they worded their summoning. Since they knew they were calling on someone to be immensely powerful, they likely detailed that it would be someone who could actually handle that power wisely.”

“So I’m not going to become a villain?”

“Anything is possible if you commit your heart to it, but no, I doubt you will become a villain. You have already demonstrated a willingness to put Clayton before yourself, even when threatened with death. That is an immensely telling, heroic choice. As long as you stay true to yourself, you should not worry about being a necromancer.”

Anna drew a long deep breath, feeling some weight of worry leave her shoulders.

“Your pall is a beautiful thing. You should wear it without fear. But for now, we should get you a change into something clean and dry until I have a chance to launder what you have now.”

“I’d rather not change my clothes,” Anna replied. They felt so dirty and uncomfortable but to change them meant potentially somehow disrupting her ability to return home. “I don’t want to change anything because I want to go home.”

“You arrived clean I assume, so being clean is closer to your original state at arrival than you are now. I will take good care of your clothes.” Clara eyed the tear in the blouse’s sleeve from the arrow. “I will see if I can find a loose thread from somewhere else to transplant and sow it up, rather than using an unrelated new thread.”

“Now eat.” She gestured to the bread again. “Allow me to fetch you something of mine to wear so you can be comfortable.”

Clara rose from the table, then unexpectedly paused.

“But first.” Picking the stylus up by the tip, she held it out for Anna to take, expression gentle, her voice confident.

“You will need this, necromancer.”