A/N: I would like to thank Lady Sentha for her review on A Glimpse of the Other Side, which made me consider writing more chapters to my one-off piece. Thank you every one for reviewing, they were a great help to me.

Now it’s onto the story.

An Intimate View

Cal’a carefully paced up the steps with the help of her yew branch and onto the porch of the small manor. She rapped her knuckles loudly on the door, hoping that whoever lived here did not send her away. The curse on Cal’a was affecting her life-force and tiring her out just as an old body would do. She needed to break the enchantment soon.

The young woman looked around while she waited. The yard was covered in assorted flower beds, probably a testament to the woman of the house. There was a long bed of roses lining the edge of the veranda and a chair hammock hung at the end of it. The setting sun threw a rosy glow through the garden and revealed a mass of tiny insects among the well kept shrubs.

The door opened and the lady of the house answered. “Yes?”

The storyteller watched the play of emotions over the woman’s face in the dim light. Disgust and concern, probably for herself, were the most prominent.

“May I intrude on your kindness? My journey is long and I would like somewhere to rest, if only for the night.”

The noblewoman stayed silent for a minute. Cal’a pleaded with her steely, mismatched eyes and appealed to the woman’s heart. The young woman underneath the old crone knew there was a debate between social standing and moral guilt. A smile won out and smoothed the lines on the lady’s face.

“Come in and share my home.” She held the oak door wide so the woman on the porch could amble inside.

Cal’a thanked the noblewoman for her kindness. She called the maid and instructed her to take Cal’a to the guest rooms.

“Draw a bath and find some night-clothes for my guest,” she added.

The manor seemed larger than the outside let on. There was a wide, open space connecting the foyer, stairwell and the second story landing, which added to the illusion. Cal’a dragged her enchanted body up the stairs and after the maid. She was led to an opulent chamber, full of draperies and rugs to keep out the chill in winter. The maid set her mouth in a line, turned on the tap in the adjoining roo, letting the tub half fill with cold water then went to fulfil the other instruction. Cal’a watched patiently in the bathing room when two men entered with buckets of hot water and added them to the tub. She thanked before they left and received a couple of shifty ‘no worries’.

The woman found a mirror hanging on one of the walls and surveyed her appearance as she stripped off her dirty clothes and stepped into the steaming water. No wonder the occupants of the manor didn’t want to meet her eyes too often. Cal’a was just as filthy and bedraggled as her clothes. Her hair was a nest of tangles and home to a few twigs. It didn’t help either that the enchantment had aged her about sixty summers, taking away the beauty of her nineteen years.

The girl clutched the scented soap and vigorously scrubbed the grime of three days from her body. Curiously the dirt purge didn’t tire her out as much as had climbing the stairs previously. The spell must be starting to lift, thought the storyteller.

Cal’a finished washing and dried her body with a soft towel after the maid left a white night-gown for her. She wandered into the main chamber and found the noblewoman sitting at the table with a tray piled with food before her.

“Have a seat and eat as much as you need.”

The woman nodded and acquiesced to the older woman’s request. As she took a piece of buttered bread and a slice of pork, Cal’a inwardly sighed at the irony. Here she was thinking of the noblewoman as old when Cal’a could, by all outward appearances, be this woman’s grandmother.

The storyteller didn’t mind the woman observing her while she ate, she was glad of the companionable silence between them. Cal’a caught sight of her reflection in the side of the goblet of milk. Her appearance had changed since the dirt had been washed away. The lines on her face were smoother and finer than the dust had led one to believe. The grease had hidden the natural luminescence of Cal’a’s light brown hair but the curse still hid the striking copper streaks.

The young woman delicately sampled the different foods on the platter. The seasoned mutton was tender and melted deliciously in her mouth. It was the first really satisfying meal Cal’a had eaten since she was waylaid in Shale-town.

Cal’a wiped her wizened hands on a napkin and folded it neatly on the tray.

“You’ll probably be sick of hearing this by the time I leave, but thank you kindly.”

“There’s no need to thank me. I feel a little selfish, for I have been longing to take care of someone or thing other than the garden.” The noblewoman smiled wanly. “You look exhausted, why don’t you get some rest?”

The storyteller nodded again and returned the smile. It was a short walk to the bed hidden behind a screen of flora but the curse always left her fatigued when the sun set. She slipped between the bed-covers as the lady of the house left with the tray.

A summer storm kicked up its heels sometime early in the night. Cal’a woke from an uneasy slumber when a clap of thunder rattled the panes of the windows. By the tension in the air, gypsy-trained instinct told the girl that the storm was reaching its height. A figment of a story stirred at the thought. A faery legend told of water pixies, who would dance at the height of storms and wash away the sins of the people. She wasn’t a water pixie but Cal’a wondered whether being soaked in storm water would help ease the curse on her. She shrugged, it couldn’t hurt.

The young woman lit the lantern on the table with a coal from the smouldering fire. Once the flame was dancing merrily she slipped off the cotton night-gown and draped it over a chair. The guest room had a railed balcony so she didn’t have to go downstairs into the yard. Cal’a pushed one of the outside doors wide enough to slide through but not enough for the lashing rain to sneak into the room.

She sighed as the cool water hit her warm skin and coursed down her body in tiny rivulets. The pale light from inside didn’t penetrate the darkness of the storm yet it threw her shadow on the balcony railings. The woman stood as long as she could in the downpour; the chilling winds and booming thunder eventually drove Cal’a inside. She grabbed a towel and gently dried herself off; making sure most of the water was gone from her hair before getting back into the bed.

The morning came and the sun shone through a thin cover of clouds, the remnants of the storm. A hand knocked loudly on the wooden door. Cal’a moved to answer it with more grace than her enchanted old bones would allow her yesterday. The noblewoman was outside carrying clothes and shoes and the maid had a tray of food. She let the women in.

“I thought you would like some clothing to replace the ones you wore out.” The lady spread out the dresses on the bed and put the footwear on the floor.

Cal’a drifted over to examine them. She picked up a simple, grey a-line dress and measured it against her body, it would fit nicely. The young woman disappeared into the bathing room to don the underwear and dress. The elbow-length sleeves flared a little, leaving room for her arms to move. It was comfortably snug around her figure nevertheless it was much better than the other clothes she had worn.

The storyteller walked back out. “I won’t impose on your kindness past breaking my fast.”

“How long will your journey be?” the noblewoman asked as she sat down.

“I don’t know,” Cal’a mumbled. “There may be a longer road ahead for me than I have travelled.”

“Are you going home to family?”

“No. I am searching for something.” She withdrew a little. The noblewoman didn’t have to be dragged into her quest anymore than she already was.

The lady must have sensed her guest’s reluctance to speak further. “Then you can have my mare to accompany you.”

Cal’a glanced up from eating. “You don’t have give me your horse. The clothes are enough.”

“I insist. She is an old horse and dear to me, but I will not be able to stable her soon. I would rather give her away than sell her to the butcher.”

“It would be nice to have company.” Cal’a took the lady’s weathered hands between her own. “Thank you.”

“I’ll go see to the preparations for your journey.” The noblewoman picked up a few sets of clothes off the bed and departed out the door.

The young woman finished the rest of her meal in silence, a commodity that was abundant on the road. She rummaged in the clothes left behind and found a long vest of heavy, dark brown material. Cal’a cinched it closed with a black belt and sat down to slip on the only boots among the footwear. The cursed girl fetched her yew branch from the wall where she let it lean all night then made her way to the foyer. She didn’t need to use it as a support for her back had straightened and her bones did not ache.

The lady of the manor met her on the front porch. The mare was being led around the side of the building by one of the men who filled her tub the night before. Saddlebags and a sleeping roll were secured behind the saddle.

“The mare’s name is Minda, meaning knowledge.”

Cal’a viewed the garden again. “May I gift you for your kindness?”

She nodded.

The storyteller walked down the steps and found clear ground at the front of the garden in the corner. Cal’a took her yew branch and drove it into the soft earth until only half of the stick could be seen. “Bpuk yu nay sok.” She returned to the noblewoman, who now stood next to the horse.

“Water the yew and care for it as you would the rest of your garden. It will bring you good luck.” She rubbed the back of her neck; a small itch crept along the length of her spine. “It’s in my experience that people who live a life of selfishness will get what they deserve, yet there is always a few that opportunity will give a second chance.”

Minda snorted, bobbing her head and then stuck her nose into Cal’a’s palm.

Despite the outburst of unrelated counsel, the noblewoman remained unfazed. “She seems to agree with you.” The lady stepped back a few paces as her guest swung into the saddle with ease, riding astride. “I wish you a good journey.”

“Thank you.”

Cal’a felt the last remnants the curse lift its burden from her shoulders. The noblewoman must have noticed the transformation as the girl heard a stifled gasp. She was young again, whole in body and spirit, displaying the glory of her years instead of the enchanted old crone.

The young woman manoeuvred Minda out onto the road. A light breeze stirred the long strands of her brown hair and the sun-beams highlighted the copper strands. Cal’a waved farewell before the manor was hidden by the trees lining the side of the road.

A/N2: The language I am using is from the country of Laos. The translation of bpuk yu nay sok is “grow in luck”.