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What if she couldn't find the house? What would she do, then? She didn't relish the idea of spending the night in the swamp. There was no telling what ma
When she emerged at last on the shore of a broad lake, Je
Sca
At the far side of the still lake, she followed the footprints along a wellworn path through a dense stand of willow and up onto higher ground. When she peered through an open place in the vegetation, she spotted, off through the trees, beyond the tangled growth of brush and the veil of vines, up on a rise ahead, a distant house. Wood smoke curled from a chimney to blend into the gray fog overhead, almost as if the smoke itself were creating the ashen overcast.
In the gray gloom of the dark swamp, the light coming from a window at the side of the house shone like a golden jewel, a beacon to welcome the lost, the desperate, the forsaken and defenseless. The sight of her journey's end, after so much terror and loss, brought tears of relief. The tears might have been joy, were it not for her dire need.
Je
Taking the steps two at a time up to the narrow porch and following it around the house brought her to a door flanked by pillars of stout logs supporting a simple but welcoming portico. From the door, down wide steps, was a broad and well-maintained path out through the swamp in front. That was the way people came when they were invited to visit the sorceress. After the way she had come in, it looked like a road.
Wasting no time, Jermsen knocked. Impatient, she rapped her knuckles again. Her knocking was interrupted when the door swung inward. An older man stood staring out at her in surprise. Gray hair was taking over from the dark brown and looked to have receded some, but it was still thick. He was neither lean nor stout, and average height. His clothes were not the clothes of a trapper or a man of a swamp, but those of a craftsman; his brown trousers, clean and well kept, were not coarse, but a more expensive tightly woven fabric. Flecks of gold sparkled from his green shirt. He was the gilder, Friedrich.
His discerning face scrutinized her more carefully, taking in the red hair under her hood. "What are you doing here?" He asked. His deep voice fit well with the rest of him, but it was none too friendly.
"I came to see Althea, if I may."
His eyes turned to the path, then back to her. "How did you get here?"
By his suspicious expression after checking, she reasoned that he had some way of knowing if someone had been up the path. Je
Je
"No one can go beyond the lake, not even me." His brow of wiry black and gray hairs drew down without so much as considering her words or questioning her further. "You're lying."
Je
"You have not been invited to come here. You must leave. You will not wander off the trail, this time, if you know what's good for you. Now, go away!»
"But it's a matter of life and death. I must-"
The door slammed shut in her face.