Search Results for 'passed'

Gloria wasn’t squeamish about ghost dog ether-dribble, having grown up with plenty of dogs about the place, of both the alive and ghost varieties, so she went over to inspect the mysterious object. Wiping the ether-dribble off with the back of her hairy forearm, she peered at the artifact.

“It’s a bit chipped round the edges, Sha, but it looks a bit like a tile. There’s a drawing on it, but I can’t seem to make it out, it’s all ingrained with muck.”

“Give it ‘ere” Sharon said, her curiosity getting the better of her. Gloria passed her the object and she spat on it and rubbed it with her fingers. Not unlike rubbing a magic lamp in anticipation of a Jeannie appearing, a strange symbol came into focus in crystal clarity on the tile.

“Blimey O Riley, our Sha!” exclaimed Gloria, “What in the name of Dicken’s it that?!”

Turning the tile over, Sharon exclaimed “Well, will you lookit this! There’s a message written on the back of it in some kind of code!”

“Well, Sanso” said Zhaana a trifle breathlessly, her flushed with wonder. “ The Elsepace Arrangement was certainly an eye opener, if eye opener is the right word. So what next?”

Sanso laughed uproariously. “What next? What next, AHAAAHAA HA HA! What next indeed!”

“What’s so funny?” asked the little girl, her face starting to crumple.

“Oh don’t do the old crumple face, Zhaana, I’m laughing at myself as much as anything” Sanso replied, giving her a quick hug. He couldn’t bear the sight of crumple faced children.

“Well, I still don’t understand why you’re laughing” she replied with a pout.

“It’s actually a very good question, and one I sometimes find I ask myself. Well, I used to ask myself “what next” all the time, as if it was somehow important to know where I was going next, to have a destination or a plan.”

“But if you don’t have a destination, how do you know where to go next?” Zhaana was confused.

Sanso smiled. “It doesn’t matter where you go next, little one, because you’re always at the centre of everything. You can go in any direction you want and you’ll always be at the centre of everything.”

“Well if that’s the case, why not just stay right where I am, then?”

“Do you want to do that? Stay right where you are?”

“No! I …er….no! of course not!”

“Why not?” Sanso asked with a gentle smile.

“Well, if I stay right here, and don’t go in any direction, everything will always be the same” she replied, frowning.

“And what would be wrong with that?”

Zhaana had to think about this. “Well, it wouldn’t be wrong I guess, but it would be boring. There wouldn’t be any surprises…..”

“Ah so you like surprises, then!” Sanso was grinning.

“Yes, I love surprises!”

“Well then why do you want to plan where you’re going next?”

Zhaana opened and closed her mouth like a goldfish. Sanso was confusing her, and she didn’t know what to say.

“OK then, Sanso, you are always wandering around, how do you decide where to go next?” asked Zhaana, rather cleverly responding to the difficult question with a question of her own.

“I get an impulse, or I see a sign, and I follow it.”

“What do you mean, a sign?” Zhaana understood about impulses: after all, she had followed her impulse to leave horrid old Uncle Grishenka and follow Sanso into the cave. She wasn’t sure about signs, though.

“I’m not sure I can describe a sign, really. They just appear, and so I notice them.”

“Well, after you notice them, then what?”

“Well” said Sanso “Then you interpret the sign however you want to, and then you act on it.”

“You can interpret the sign however you want?” asked Zhaana with a hint of disbelief in her voice.

“Yup” replied Sanso. “That’s about the size of it, Sweetpea.”

“Oh Godfrey, I’ve been trying to get the theme word into this entry and I’m just not getting any closer.” Elizabeth sighed, and pushed her keyboard away. Quickly she pulled the keyboard back so that she could write what Godfrey replied.

“Have some more peanuts, Liz” he replied with a laugh.

Elizabeth pushed the keyboard away again and passed Godfrey the peanuts .

A few moments later Elizabeth pulled the keyboard back and wrote:

“Sanso, a word just popped into my head, do you think it might be a sign?” Zhaana asked excitedly. “It just popped in from nowhere!”

“Sure it’ll be a clue, and what was the word?” he replied, trying unsuccessfully to suppress a chuckle. He had heard the word too, and knew exactly where it was coming from, but he wasn’t going to spoil the moment for his little friend.

“Moonbeams!” she announced proudly. “I heard the word moonbeams !”

“Oh My God” exclaimed Bea. “I had a dream about the DOOR!”

“Oh, well done! The question is, did you remember it?” asked Leonora.

“As a matter of fact, Leo, I did!” replied Bea with a happy smile. “As a matter of fact, although I’m not too sure how factual matter really is, but anyway, I did remember the dream, and I wrote it all down.”

“Gosh, up early this morning, weren’t you?” asked Leo, who was sipping coffee at the kitchen table and watching the sun come up over the mountains through the open door.

“Oh I didn’t write it down this morning, silly! I wrote it all down last week.”

Leo placed her cup on the table and rubbed her eyes, frowning. “Wait a minute, let me get this straight…..”

Bea laughed ~ she was in rather a jolly mood, despite the early hour. “I had the dream last week, Leo, but I only just realized this morning that the dream was about THE DOOR”

“So what did you learn about the door, then?”

Bea frowned. “Well I’m not really sure. But it seemed so significant because it was that scary door, you know, the dreams I’ve been having for years about that door in that bedroom that’s too scary to get near, never mind go through….would you like to read it? Maybe you can interpret it for me.”

“If I must” sighed Leonora “You better pour me another cup of coffee then and pass me those cigarettes.”

Leonora read from Bea’s Dream Journal:

I was sorting winter clothes out on an upstairs landing of a cottagey gabled house,
and decided to use the upstairs bedroom instead of the downstairs one.
The bedroom was a recurring dream one, gabled attic with dormer windows kind of room.
Then I saw the door and remembered this was the door I was always too terrified
in dreams to open; it was so scary that I always wanted to use this bedroom
but never could because of that terrifying door and whatever lay beyond it.

“Didn’t you do a waking dream and go through that door?” Leonora asked. “Oh, yes here is is…”

Remembering that I had done a waking dream and gone beyond the door once,
I marched up to the door, flung it open and strode through.
Suddenly an almost overpowering fear and dread stopped me in my tracks
but I carried on anyway.

“Oh, bloody well done, Bea! Good for you, girl!” Leonora could be a bit waspish at times, but she was a kind old soul underneath.

 It was a bit like a old slightly shabby but once grand hotel foyer, high ceilings
(not the same as when I went through in the waking dream, which was then rows
of closed doors on either side).  The foyer opened out on the left into a large old
fashioned restaurant dining room, with one person over on the far side sitting at
a table.  I carried on straight ahead through opaque etched glass double doors
onto an upstairs outdoor terrace.  There was a city scene below.  On the left
was a shallow ornately shaped ornamental pool.

“Reminds me a bit of our trip to Barcelona, this does, eh” Leo commented.

“Yeah, I’m sure that had something to do with the gargoyle imagery” replied Bea.

A woman squeezed past me holding a small thick book and I knew she was
going to jump off the terrace which was several storeys up.  She collapsed into
the pool, writhing backwards, baring a flat white breast and dropping the book.

“Flat breast, hahah Bea, that weren’t you then, obviously, was it!”

Bea chuckled. “Not bloody likely! I reckon that bit slipped in the dream because I can’t find a comfortable bra lately”

“You and me both” replied Leo. She continued reading from the journal.

I picked up the book, and somehow ended up with two books, which seemed like guide books. I couldn’t hold onto the two books with the creature in my hand, which was weird, like a very heavy small furry grey reptile, or gargoyle.

“Maybe it was a baby dragon?”

“Don’t say that!” retorted Bea, who had a horror of dragons. “The thought did cross my mind too, though” she admitted.

I was holding it with one hand round its middle and the fat grey belly of it
was bulging out under my fingers.  It was unbelievably heavy for such a small creature
and I didn't want to hold it, so I passed it to a boy. (Twice I was holding the creature,
and twice I passed it to the boy, but I can't recall the other time)

Back inside the building, I followed the boy down a big wide staircase that
curved round to the right at a landing below.  I started to fall down the stairs and
knew it was because of the book that I was holding that the woman had been holding
when she collapsed into the pool, so I threw the book down the stairs to save myself,
and felt the tumbling down from the books perspective, although I stayed in
the same place, clutching the banister.

“Well I am amazed that you remembered so much, Bea! Going through the doors and finding the books reminds me of Jane’s Library you know”. Leo was starting to go into an altered state.

“Are you going into an altered state, Leo?” asked Bea. “Are you channeling Juani Ramirez again?”

“The creature, the gargoyle, was representing ‘a different species of awareness, of consciousness’” continued Leonora, as Bea hastily started taking notes. Leo wouldn’t remember what she’d said while she was channeling Juani, so it was essential that Bea record what was said.

“The weight was a marker to help you recall the creature, as well as being symbolic of denseness”

Bea couldn’t help making a snirking noise. Dense eh, she said under her breath.

“The door” continued Leonora “Is a signpost, a marker.”

Just then the phone rang, snapping Leonora out of the trance. Bea picked up the telephone, but there was nobody there.

“Pffft” said Bea.

“More coffee?”

The Crystal Skulls So Far…

The crystal skulls first appeared in the Far West saga, where it’s hinted that around the 1850s, some crystal skulls are found/smuggled by Aldous McGaughran. Their origin is not told.

It seems that (at least) one of his crystal skulls are passed down to Claudio in Spain through his grand-father’s acquaintance of Cillian Mc Gaughran (one of Wrick’s ancestors) — ref.
That skull is auctioned and a lady in salmon (the fake viscountess who is in reality an agent of the Mad Baron) gets it. This skull finishes its trip in the Baron’s lair (at around our time ~2007)… The Baron’s mansion will become (in the 2030s?) the home of the twins, and Wrick family.

Some of the crystal skulls are also found in the past (1950s?) around the mysterious figure of Mrs Chesterhope who is already hunting for them in (Brunei?) sultanate, using Georges to do so.
Later (around 2008) she locates one on the island of Tikfijikoo, and she sends a gang of magpies to find them, but their efforts are thwarted and she needs to get there in person (and motorcycle).

The Confregation is an organization which seems to know some things about them and are the origin of the one lent to the Dr Bronkelhampton on Tikfijikoo (retrieved from Crusaders a long time ago).

Beattie and Leonora Fletcher, a couple of batty Brit ladies seems to have found some of them too , and have a network of their own…

Later (2030s?), near the Indian Ocean, one is found by Gayesh’s family too …

Serendib Facility, Sri Lanka ~ (2035)

Becky had forgotten all about her new babies now that she had the handsome and charming Gayesh in her sights. During the hot lazy days at the facility while Gayesh was working, she passed her time idly, swimming in the pool, dozing on the terrace, or randomly roaming around the Internet. Sometimes she checked Secondary Clone Becky’s blog all about bringing up triplets and coping with difficult husbands but soon got bored with such mundane affairs. Occasionally she worked on the Reality Play, and often sent reminders to Tina about the Facility , hoping that she would decide to join her.

Perhaps I could entice her over here with the promise of a menage à trois with the delectable Gayesh, Becky mused, rather wickedly. I’m not sure I want to write about that in the Reality Play though, she thought, perhaps I could add it to my old journals, and then send Tina a link.

4:21:44 PM 8-8-08 1da Geolocation Time.

sometimes the flow climbs a mountain.

pause. step. quick step. pause again. step. upstream another step. the stones solid, smooth, settled beneath my feet with the timeless passing of water. the path of gravity. the rising of a mountain. a rapid, considered, going on pace. sand between the stones. the moments of time. light on the rippling waters flickering. the air transparent, timeless, crisp, cool.

knowing i’ve passed this way before, i pass again for the first time.

it’s good to be back. returning. beginning.

knowing my destination. the cave far above beneath the ancient pine. the boulder near the rough and gnarled trunk, slick and smooth. so hard the sense is of softness gliding with my fingers over the iridescent surface. soft to sit upon, to watch the valley far below extending forever into the distance. soft to recline upon, arcing my back. the warmth of the day in the stone, lingering far into the night to heat my bones. …knowing my destination, i take the next step into all that is new.

sitting near the water. deep transparent pools of green/blue. the setting red sun. a shelter beneath driftwood high on the bank. a myrtle tree draping a blanket of scent over me, opening my soul. with each breath. i watch the light fading into the words echoing through my skull… life is hard… the song…

Life is hard
Anyway you cut it
Life is sweet,
Like a berry from a tree
Life is temptation, baby,
Every single day
Life is hard

Life is funny,
I dont mean ha-ha
It‘s not always sunny,
When it needs to be
Life is frightening,
Nothing lasts forever
Life is hard

My time
Is next to nothing
My time
Falls on you, yeah
Everything
Is in motion
Life is hard

Life is precious,
No matter how you see it
Life is crazy,
Like yellow fishes in the street
Life is lonely
When you‘re not with me
Life is hard

Gentlemen
Is that you story?
Hanging religion
From a tree, yeah
My time
Is next to nothing
Life is hard

My time
Is next to nothing
My time
Falls on you, yeah
Everything
Is in motion
Life is hard

My time
Falls on you, yeah
Life is hard
Life is hard

– J. Mellencamp – while on the planet earth.

ok. life is also beautiful. – 1da

it’s a cruel crazy beautiful world – J. Clegg – also while on the planet earth.

stars flickering in the fading twilight. the silence of a light breeze as pine boughs begin to whisper. the ache of tall trees swaying in the night with a moan like countless masts on the tall ships of a planet. blink. and i sleep.

Wow that had been bizarre! Veranassessee stood at the bathroom basin and splashed icy cold, reviving water on her face. She knew she’d had sex with Agent Gabriele … however the experience had a slightly surreal quality, not unlike a dream, details slipping elusively away from her as she tried to grasp hold of them. She giggled nervously as she dried her face with a towel. Did she really want to remember? She had just passed Agent Gabriele in the corridor and he had winked at her, saying he couldn’t wait to try the ‘reverse cleaning maid ‘ again. A sudden image came to mind and she saw her skin darken in the mirror as a hot wave of embarrassment flooded her. Good Grief! She thought guiltily of Mahiliki. She hoped the other island had not been too badly affected by cyclone Ycart, so far it seemed Tifikijoo had come off quite lightly.

Veranassessee had already checked on the guests, Jose Maria and Paquita were still in their room, Mavis was huddled under her bedding and informed her in a muffled voice that Sha and Glor had gone looking for her.

Well she’s not in her bloody room so where is she eh? Gloria and Sha were on the warpath, determined to get some answers from Veranassessee.

‘Ere, Sha! Bloody hell! Glor shook her head in disbelief.

What’s up Glor?

Bloody magpies … there are bloody magpies in ‘ere!

What! Nasty little buggers those magpies. Poke yer bloody eyes out if yer aint careful.

‘Ere what they up to eh? Bloody hopping all over that whats-a-ma-callit-doo-dacky machine.

They’ll be going for the shiny bits I reckon. They do that those magpies. ‘Ere we’d better stop them, might never get our bloody beauty treatments if they bugger that machine up.

Oh for foocks sake, Finnley grumbled, does that woman never go home?

Elizabeth Tattler was passed out on the desk, two empty wine boottles on the floor beside her chair.

Foock you too! Foock you too! Screeched Robert X

She grinned, she quite enjoyed Robert X, or MrX as she liked to call him.

So what’s our Elizabeth been up to eh Mr X? Finnley picked up the messy pile of papers on the desk and carefully put them in order. They looked sort of interesting. Maybe it was time for a rest break. She pulled out her vegemoot sandwooches on chunks of rye bread, and, carefully dusting it first, she sat down on a big armchair in the corner of the office to read.

Twenty minoots later she threw the pages on the floor in disgust, but then, disturbed by the mess it made, picked them up again.

The character Veranassessee left her particularly disturbed. What a name! And what a Wishy Wooshy Noomby Poomby. Whats all this YES YES YES businoos! That Agent Gabriele was a selfish and dictatorial bastood as far as she could tell.

She would see about that! She was no writer but she was sure she could do better than this load of old mongoat droppings.

Well she would if she could find a pen on Ms Tattler’s shamboolic desk anyway.

Veranassessee (V) drew back from his sloppy kisses. Wait! Have you got protection? she asked, imperatively and sensibly.

Protection? … my gun is under the pillow … oh right I see what you mean, stuttered Agent Gabriele apologetically, reluctantly pulling himself from making suction noises on her breast to rummage for a condom in his suitcase.

Great, now say that stuff again. You know all that crap about how beautiful I am. I sort of liked it.

Agent Gabriele willingly obliged. Of course V recognised it for the lustful rubbish it was … still might as well have a bit of fun. He was damn good looking.

Perfect, she said. Now, what position do you prefer?

He was momentarily speechless, stunned, and even more aroused, if that was indeed possible, by her forthrightness.

She rolled her eyes. Yes, you know POSITION … on top … underneath ..front … back… through a hole in a blanket …? myself I like to keep things simple, don’t want to make too much mess around the place.

Anything you want Darling Agent V.

A little bit later he sighed contentedly. You are by far the best lover I have ever had.

Thanks, everyone says that. Hey! Put out that cigarette, there’s no smoking inside you know. She looked critically around the room. You know this room could do with a damn good clean, I could see dust on the headboard, you know, while we were doing it.

I’ll make sure I clean it next time, he murmered huskily, kissing her, and saying that stuff again, about how perfect she was.

Finnley giggled to herself. Much better! Well who’d have thought she would have a bit of a gift for writing. Carefully she replaced the pages under the telepooh and made her exit. With a bit of luck Ms Tattler would never notice.

Oh what absoloote rubbish, giggled Elizabeth Tattler, taking another large sloorp from her 4th glass of red wine and putting large determined scribbles through the last chapter of the latest Noovel. It was the continuing saga of the Tifijikoo Island story. She really had to finish it, old whats-his-face was on the telepooh to her daily now, demanding to know when it was to be finished.

More Sex! he had shouted at her last time. More sex, we want the bloody thing to sell don’t we!

Well I have shut you up haven’t I, she snorted to herself, thinking happily of Dr Bronkelhampton passed out on the couch wearing a pink dress and mascara running down his face.

More sex eh? Hooommmm, Elizabeth did not particularly believe in putting extraneous sex in her noovels. At the same time that character Veranassessee was annoying her a bit with all her indecisiveness. And what a bloody mouthful that name was. Was it too late to change it? hooommm probably. She had modelled her roughly on the cleaner, Finnley, quite an attractive girl despite her pooty face and superior, bossy ways.

She vaguely remembered something a tutor at writing school had said to her once about writing sex scenes … what was his name? Emonel … no that was not quite right … Meenol! That was it!

Make your writing detailed, with accurate depiction of suction noises

Elizabeth broke into fits of laughter, slamming her fist on the desk gleefully and startling Robert X. (Unfortunately the fainting Mongoats had been banned from the building by that nasty Mr Arak)

You know Robbie-pooh what is wrong with this?

Robbie-Pooh, Robbie-Pooh, cackled Robert X.

IT’S BOORING, The damn characters never do anything. Right well, time to fix that. She took another few slugs of her wine.

Oh God, said Agent Gabriele. Who gives a shit about the Doctor or bloody magpies. I can’t stand this any longer. I must have you Agent V. He lunged towards her, ripping open her robe and exposing her naked body.

You are so beautiful. All I ever wanted is you. That’s why I demanded this assignment on the Island … to see you again. I have not been able to get you out of my head. You’ve been driving me crazy

NO NO, cried Veranassessee weakly, but her body said YES YES

YES!

Agent Gabriele kissed her on the mouth, making strange and passionate slurping noises, and, unable to resist any longer, she gave in to his need for her.

( Yes, Yes, YES! snorted Elizabeth, momentarily unable to write for laughing. Hooommm what about that Mahiliki? He was pathootic. Did he want the girl or not for God’s sake? )

Mahiliki stared anxiously out at the storm. He could think of nothing but his darling Veranassessee. He must know if she was alright. He must go to her. He grabbed his car keys and drove like a madman to the airport.

( Hoommm, thought Elizabeth, I really don’t know anything about small island airports and planes. Well booger that, I will research them later on the internoot )

You must fly me to Tifijikoo Island! demanded Mahiliki, holding the pilot (who had been sitting out the storm in a little airport building thingy ) at knifepoint.

Are you mad? said the pilot. There’s a freakin cyclone, or hadn’t you noticed?

Yes, I am mad, I am mad with love. Fly me there or you are a dead man.

ahahahaahah, laughed Elizabeth happily.

Holy Moly, that was quite a ride! whispered a beaming Ella Marie, who had been enjoying herself immensely. The dinghy and its strange cargo drifted on the open sea, the storms passed and the ocean calm and moonlit.

The floodwater currents had swept them along and Ella focused on avoiding obstacles like signposts, feeling exhilarated and alive with excitement.

Oy, we’re in the Gulf of Mexico now! she cackled, Lordy, I wonder where we’ll end up.

Elioctyl grinned.

Elioctyl had been trying in vain for years to attract the attention of the museum cleaning lady, Ella Marie Tindale.

Ella Marie had lived in Alabama all her life, and her parents before her. Some of her ancestors were native to this land, some from the distant shores of Africa. She loved the stories of the old ones, passed down through the generations, stories told at family gatherings and celebrations. Ella Marie had never learned to read, but she remembered all the stories word for word, including her own stories. Ah, her own stories! She kept her own stories to herself, she never forgot the horrified silence when, as a child of five, she had voiced one of her stories at a family gathering. A silence had descended like a pall in the dining room that day.

She shivered at the memory as she dusted the glass case covering the mummy, and Elioctyl, seizing upon the moment as a possible chance to get Ella Marie’s attention, whispered loudly.

Ella! It’s me, you silly goose, it’s me, I mean YOU!

Duster suspended in mid-air, Ella Marie quickly looked around to make sure nobody was watching her. All her life she’d been one step away from the funny-farm; she knew she had to be careful.

Are you speaking to ME? she asked the mummy, incredulously. She’d spoken to trees before, and heard them reply, but never a mummy.

Sheesh! exclaimed the mummy, At LAST! Over 3,000 years I’ve been whispering to you, and finally, you heard me.

Ella Marie looked furtively over her shoulder, and then whispered back: Well, what for? What do you want?

I want you to get me the fuck out of here, that’s what!

Ella Marie clamped her work worn hands over her ears. You mind your language! she admonished the mummy. I don’t wonder I wasn’t listening to you all those years, coming out with language like that! Pfft….

Metaphorically speaking, the mummy raised its eyebrows and sighed.

So tell us about Russia, Elvira, Fleur asked the rather formidably silent old woman. What was it like?

Elvira raised an eyebrow, and then frowned. Well, I…..quite honestly I don’t remember much about it. She sighed deeply and her shoulders sagged.

Well, did you take any photos? pressed Fleur. Did you bring any souvenirs back?

Oh, I…..yes, I have some photos……

Elvira rummaged in her oversized carpet bag and pulled out a manila envelope, tattered along the edges. She passed it to Fleur.

The landscape had become oddly unfamiliar to Franiel. He had walked this path to the Village at the foot of the mountains maybe a half a dozen times, yet he felt certain he had never before seen these surroundings. He had never seen this patch of bright yellow flowers with their golden centers, nor this gnarled tree whose branches dropped down over the path causing Franiel to stoop in order to pass by. He stopped, hesitating, should he return the way he had come, find where he had left the path? Yet even while his mind was telling him what he was seeing should not be, he knew in his heart that he had taken no wrong turning. He touched the trunk of the old tree, and asking for wisdom, felt it’s reassuring energy calm his anxiety. The way ahead, though unexpected, felt friendly.

As fate would have it he had not journeyed much further when he spied a fellow traveler coming towards him on the path ahead, a small figure swathed in colourful robes, wild and dishevelled locks of hair protruding exuberantly from beneath his brown leather cap.

Greetings Fellow Traveler, cried out Franiel as he drew nearer, My name is Franiel. I am travelling from the Monastery of Margilonia to the Village of Chard Dam Jarfon, and foolishly I appear to have mislaid my way.

The stranger chuckled merrily. Greetings Franiel, Indeed If that is your destination then I fear perhaps you are more lost than you care to admit. He motioned towards the grassy bank at the side of the path. Perhaps we might sit awhile and talk, for I know that I for one, could do with a rest and bite to eat.

A splendid idea, replied Franiel, sensing magic in the stranger and enjoying immensely the unexpected diversion.

So my friend you are a long way from the Village of Chard Dam Jarfon.

Am I indeed? mused Franiel, How could that be, for that was where I was heading, and as far as I know I did not step from the path, and yet here I am.

The stranger chuckled again, and his laughter was so infectious that Franiel joined in, not really being able to identify the source of the amusement, yet feeling all the better for it.

And how important is it that you get to the Village of Chard Dam Jarfon?

I am on a mission from Aum Geog, the newly appointed Abbot, replied Franiel, as he pulled out the chalice from his pack, to have this cup inscribed.

The stranger reached out for the chalice, and studied it intently for a few moments. He took some of the water from his own water bottle and poured it into the chalice. Muttering a few words which Franiel did not recognise, the stranger closed his eyes and held the cup up as though offering it to the Gods. After a few moments he took a sip from the chalice. A look of delight crossed his face, As I thought! he chuckled.

Now drink, my friend, he said offering the chalice back to Franiel.

This is the sweetest Nectar you carry in your bottle ! Franiel exclaimed in surprise after taking some sips.

The stranger chortled, It was plain water from the river I passed on my travels. I gather from your surprise that you do not know the magic of this chalice?

Franiel shook his head. Well to be honest I have not really given the chalice much consideration, only to briefly wonder at my task. My mind has been more occupied with other matters. Franiel looked at the chalice in his hands, And what more can you tell me of this magic?

I can caution you to be wary my friend, I would not be so quick to show strangers you meet on your path this cup, for be assured there would be some who would be keen to possess this. He frowned for a moment. What are the words which are to be inscribed on this chalice?

Franiel pulled the sealed letter from his pack, and, feeling only a moment’s hesitation, opened it; “Bibere venenum in argento”, he read haltingly, then shrugged. I confess I don’t know what that means, I have not been taught in the old language.

It is a curse of the Ancients, it means “drink poison from a cup of silver”. Seeing the puzzled look on Franiel’s face the stranger went on to explain. The magic of the chalice is to transform. I uttered words of love and the water transformed to sweet nectar. Had I whipered words of hate and fear, had my intention been to kill, I could have changed the water to bitter poison. The power though is not in the chalice, it is in the intention of the one who holds it and who knows of it’s magic.

Franiel shook his head, bewildered, I can find no sense in this. Why would Aum Geog curse the cup in this way?

The stranger turned and looked at Franiel, his clear blue gaze piercing and direct, I don’t know this Aum Geog, neither do I know his heart …. I know that you are the bearer of the cup now Franiel. Make sure you are asking the right questions.