The Witch Part 3

At the center of the town was a fountain where people gathered. Next to the fountain, an enclosed booth was being set up by the city guards and uniformed men from the city’s Office of Arcane Arts.

By this time tomorrow, children would be lined up to enter the booth to test if they had any magic potential. Except for mages, whose magical power was inherited and could be detected at birth, everyone else’s magic would manifest at age five and end at age ten.

The Witch walked around on the opposite side of the fountain away from the booth. She might be able to fool others into thinking that her get-up was for the festival, but not the people from the Office of Arcane Arts. They would recognize her as their local witch on the Office’s retainer. After the run-in with the harassers, she didn’t feel like talking to anyone unless necessary.

It wasn’t long before she finally arrived at her destination, where a homely stone-fortified building stood. The post office always gave the Witch the impression that this would be the last structure standing even if a fire were to break out in the city. She entered through the open double doors, asked to speak with Postmaster, and was led upstairs into the office.

“Are you going on another trip, My Lady?” asked the Postmaster, gesturing his guest to sit on the sofa. For a man in his sixties, he was in remarkable health with a head full of black hair. Perhaps it was all that walking when he was still a mailman that did the trick.

“Yes. It’ll probably be a few months or longer, or I might not return this time. Please hold my mail as usual. If I don’t return in ten years, then that means I’ll be gone for good,” the Witch said.

“Not return?” Startled, the Postmaster rose from his seat. It took a few moments to regain his composure as he gaped at the Witch and then sat back down. “Might I ask where you’re going?”

“The same place I always go,” replied the Witch.

The Postmaster looked at the Witch sadly. “I’ve known you since I was a boy. You’ve always been a tremendous help to our city and the area. It’s hard to imagine what life would be like if you were gone.”

“But you cannot depend on me forever. Your lives will go on. You can always request other Arcane artificers to bless the crops or refresh the city’s protection wards. There haven’t been any monster attacks for decades, and I don’t think there will be any soon. I’ve already put in a leave of absence with the Office of Arcane Arts. They should be able to take care of things while I’m gone,” said the Witch with a reassuring smile.

She had been living in a small cabin in the forest near this town for about a hundred years. It was time to move on, even if she wasn’t going on this journey with a possibility of no return.

“We’ll all miss you,” the Postmaster said. He then looked down at his hands and held a hand up to her. “I remember on my 13th summer, I broke my finger. It was smashed under the stone at the family mill behind our house, and it was so bloody. I really thought I would never get my finger back, but you came and healed me. You didn’t just heal me, but my uncle who had broken his leg while farming, the boy who had a cracked skull because he was too naughty and later grew up to be a knight, and many others,” the Postmaster added.

He looked up at the Witch, truly sad to see her go. “There are many people whose lives you helped and saved. Please, consider coming back to us. Even if it might take you years, we’ll wait for you. Many of us still have not repaid you for your kindness.”

The Witch blinked in surprise at the Postmaster, whose eyes were getting wet. She thought that she would only stay for a few words and say her goodbye. She really didn’t expect the Postmaster to be so emotional.

“I never did any of those things and expected people to repay me. Besides, I’m on retainer for these purposes and do get compensation from the Office of Arcane Arts for my services. I was also granted land and knighted.”

“You really underestimate your importance to us, My Lady,” the Postmaster said. “I understand your… condition, so I won’t say much more. I also understand that it’s very difficult to dissuade you once you make up your mind. You’re always welcome back here, anytime, and we will look forward to it.”

The Postmaster stood, and the Witch exchanged a firm handshake with the older man. Before she let go, she took the man’s hand in both of hers and cast a spell of good health and protection onto him. Instantly, ancient runes shone on the back of his palm and disappeared into his skin.

“I’m grateful, My Lady,” the Postmaster said.

“Normally I would have cast it on a piece of amethyst, a stone of healing and protection, for the effect to last longer. I apologize,” the Witch said. “But as long as you have the wish to be healthy and protect yourself, the power of the spell will never fade.”

“Please do not trouble yourself. I’m sure you had many preparations to make for your journey ahead,” the Postmaster smiled kindly at the Witch and walked with her out of the post office.

When they came out of the post office, the man said, “I wish you safe travels and good health.” He bowed respectfully, watching the Witch depart into the crowd.