Kel was groggy as he dragged himself out of the barn and welcomed the light of day. He had certainly tried to get his customary hour of sleep just before, but sleep had not come for him and if he was being honest with himself, he hadn’t wanted it to. Instead he had simply snuck the Black Book back into the study and then waited the rest of the early morning out staring at the ceiling and wondering just what had happened that night.

“I’m boy,” the thing with the protuberant eyes had said. Right. And I’m the emperor, Kel thought to himself as he yawned and stretched. It was disappointing - he had accomplished something, his most difficult spell yet, and he knew with certainty that he could not share it with anyone. Whatever he had summoned, it was not likely to win any friends in Fellow’s Glen.

His finger ached - the trauma to his cut last night had caused it to grow swollen and red. He doubted cattail was going to help now. He brought it to Caaron's attention as soon as they had broken their morning fast with bread and mutton.

Caaron grimaced as he carefully looked over the boy's hand. There were angry red tendrils reaching out from the ugly wound, stretching toward his knuckle. “It’s infected,” he poked it gingerly and kel couldn't help but wince. “We’re all out of salve for this - I need to harvest more marigolds and they won’t bloom again until next Spring.”

“So Odd William, then.”

Caaron nodded “William.” He said, sternly.” It’s just William. No need to point out the obvious.” He gently wound the bindings back around Kel’s throbbing finger. "And no pestering him about you-know-what." When he had initially returned, Kel had tried endlessly to ask him about the Faerie kingdom. As any child would, he had wanted to know what the world that his mother and brother had been taken to was like. After witnessing some of William's more spectacular fits as a result of his questioning, however, Kel had learned not to push too hard.

“Right.” Kel grabbed his satchel and began to walk out when Caaron stopped him. “I'm coming too,” the wise man smiled. “That was the last of our bread. And the last of the mutton. And, if I'm being honest, I've been wanting some of that wine from up-hill that i've been hearing about. We can take the wagon.”

The ride into town was slower than if Kel had walked by himself, but he appreciated the company. It was a nice change to not have to use his legs for once. The slight swinging rhythm of the wagon was soothing to him, like being rocked by waves on the sea. They reached the crest of the hill overlooking the village and a gust of wind caused the trees around them to dance, as if waving goodbye to the swiftly descending wagon. The houses of Fellow's Glen were set out in an orderly fashion, lining the main road through the town that ran parallel to the river. From here, the thatched roofs and careful stone masonry made the houses look like game pieces. Most of the stones had been harvested from the hills around them. A total of twenty homes, which put them almost above a village but not quite. Twenty nearly identical chimneys puffed out gentle streams of smoke, except for one large house near the center of town. The Hardstahd’s "manor" had four, belching out thick clouds of the stuff.

Kel rolled his eyes and settled on looking at the river and surrounding hills. The heat of summer was beginning to fade and already, some of the trees in the distant hills were beginning to change from green leaves to a faint yellow.

They passed over the bridge and through the gate into Fellow's Glen. There were no walls around the village, except the waist-high one that bordered the forest on the north-east side of town, so the gate was mostly ceremonial. It was, in Caaron’s opinion, a waste of time and resources. Not unlike the new fountain that had just been installed in town square. Kel was fairly certain he had seen one before in a distant city as a young child. He just remembered splashing in cool water and his parents laughing with him. Peri hadn’t even been born yet, so he wasn’t sure how he even had that memory. Unlike the rest of the square, this fountain was polished marble and must have cost a fortune. The gaudy thing stood out like a sore thumb, looking like it was being kept in the dirt square until it would be moved to it’s true home in front of a mansion or a castle.

Caaron spat as they passed the eyesore, muttering something under his breath, but he didn't say anything out loud. They rode in silence for a few minutes until he pulled on the reins and slowed the wagon to a halt in front of Kyleria’s house. “I have to drop off some things. And pick up a few as well. I’ll meet you later."

Kel hopped down, grabbing his satchel. He waved and walked the rest of the way to Odd William’s place.

He had been around Kel’s age now when he disappeared. Kel had been around four at the time, so he still remembered looking up to and playing with kid-William, but they were very spotty memories. Five years later, when his own family was taken, William had re-appeared twenty years older. Some villagers joked that he was twenty years odder, but Kel didn’t think it was very funny. They were afraid of him, to be sure. He would begin raving at random intervals when he had been perfectly cognizent just moments before. Whatever he had been through, it had been harrowing enough without people bad-mouthing him now.

To be fair, many around town respected William. He could heal people almost effortlessly with magic. It was near-miraculous. Kel had seen people near death brought before him and walk out as if they had never been sick a day in their lives. Once, when Kel had broken his leg climbing a tree, William had happened by before anyone else and gently touched his leg with the tip of his finger. He had told him a story. Something about a dog and a fox. When the story was over, Kel had looked down at his leg in awe: It was like nothing had happened. No pain. No break. If anything, his leg had become stronger than before.

Despite his gift, people didn’t always want to go to him for everything and there were some who held out indefinitely. Folks didn’t trust faerie magic like they did “true” healing from alchemy and herbs. That was what Caaron was for.

Odd William lived in the last house of the village, on the far side from the bridge and the gate. From the outside, it looked like just another house. Thatched brown roof, exposed beams that stretched out toward the street, gray stone walls that kept the inhabitants cool in summer and warm in winter. Inside was a different story, however. Every room was an explosion of color, each an individual dedicated shrine to the gods. Bright colored silks and strange abstract drawings hung off-kilter from the walls and beams, supposedly to please the powers with which William claimed to commune. Even the kitchen was a labyrinth of string and offerings. Kel rapped on the door and it opened almost as soon as he had begun.

“Guin’s word guide you,” the heavy-lidded man droned in a monotone voice, his pale face silhouetted by the bright red room behind him and a shock of black hair that swept over his forehead. William credited Guin, in particular of the gods, with delivering him from the Faerie kingdom. He had become something of a layman-priest, though people seldom listened to his preaching unless they needed healing. Rather than ask for alms, he required an audience for the stories he told. His father had been the official priest of the town before William was spirited away. After his father died and a new priest moved in, the newcomer had initially tried to have him run out of town after detecting a heretic bent to his stories. That priest hadn’t lasted, however, because half the town had been healed by William at that point. Some more begrudgingly than others.

"Come and sit," the layman priest motioned to a pair of cushions in the corner of the intensely decorated room.

William had taught him a lot about the gods sitting on these cushions:

There was Hal, the Forgeman. He gave fire to humans when they were first made; his fire brought destruction and creation. Then there was Guin, the Namer and wellspring of stories. She taught words of magic and power to humans when they huddled by the first fires. Gibb, the fisherman and messenger, who rode waves on a watery horse and once cast a net around the world to keep everyone from falling off. There was Isaac the Master, to whom destiny answered. Or maybe Isaac was destiny? It was never clear in the stories.

Finally there was GYMN, the foreign god from the empire. Everyone pronounced it "Gimmon" but there were sometimes debates about how exactly it should be said or if it should be spoken at all. It was all very confusing for Kel. William hadn’t actually taught him much about that one; He really only heard the name as a swear sometimes. Then again, most of the time he heard the names of gods, it was as a swear. It was a strange paradox for him.

“This is not too far gone,” William said in his dreamy monotone as he held the boy's hand in his own. He hadn’t actually looked at the hand he was touching - in true Odd William fashion, he was still staring straight into Kel’s eyes. It had been off putting at first, but in a town where no one made eye contact with him, it was sometimes a welcome annoyance.

"Very well," William continued, "Shall we begin?"

"Please." Kel looked forward to stories with William. Stories were a way to learn too.

"Have I told you the tale of King Hemlin’s Happiness?"

"No, that's a new one."

William leaned back on his cushion, still holding Kel's arm. "Hemlin was a king who wished for happiness. His father was a king and his father before him, and so he had never wanted for anything in his life. Yet he was not happy. He was bored and discontented, as many kings are. So he did what kings do. He fought wars and expanded his kingdom with glorious victory, but even the prosperity of added land came paired with the guilt that follows war. He bought the most expensive jewels he could find from the furthest reaches of the world. They were beautiful and sparkled delightfully, but they didn’t fill his soul. He hired sorcerers to cast spells for him. They dazzled and distracted his heavy mind, but they couldn’t give him the joy that springs from within.

Further depressed, Hemlin bought a magical amulet, within which lived a spirit that could grant wishes."

Of course he did, thought Kel.

"The great king Hemlin first wished for happiness. The spirit showed him the way to a river, on the edge of his lands, that would grant forgetfulness of all woes. The king was annoyed. 'The absence of sadness is not happiness,' he said. 'What is your next wish, then?' the spirit asked. Thinking upon the stories he had heard growing up, the man decided that he wanted the love of a beautiful woman. The spirit made it so: one day while traveling in disguise , Hemlin met a peasant girl by the river of forgetting - her sister had died and she was gathering water for her family to drink and forget their grief for a time.

"Compelled by her sad, beautiful smile, the king fell in love. His love was returned (he was the king, after all) and they were married. The great king Hemlin was very happy for a time...” He fell silent and they both looked down at Kel’s hand. Where an angry swollen wound had been, there was now only a thin hairline scar on his finger.

Kel smiled. “That’s a shorter story than usual.”

William turned his mournful eyes back to Kel’s and shrugged. “It was a smaller injury than I am used to treating. But that’s not the end of the story.”

“Oh.”

“Hemlin and his wife were very happy for a while. She even bore a son, a new prince. But his extended family, the oldest royal line, stretched across generations and across countries, were insulted that a commoner had become queen. And so one day, while the queen and her young son were out visiting the countryside where she had grown up, the craven royal family had her assassinated.” He was quiet for a moment.

Kel’s face fell. If that was the end of the story, it was a piss-poor one.

William blinked and continued. “Hemlin waited, happily unaware of what had happened. When they brought her body back to the throne room, he shed a single tear and immediately had her buried in the family crypt. Then he walked out of his castle. He walked the streets until they gave way to roads and then dirt paths. He walked until there were no more paths. There he found the river where he had met his beloved wife. At the spirit's instruction, he took a single sip and forgot everything from the previous day.”

"So he forgot she died?"

"Indeed. The next day he kept busy and happily went about his day, waiting for his queen and son to return from their trip to the countryside. And when one his servants finally reminded him of the fact, he shed a single tear and walked to the river again. Thus, Hemlin lived out the remainder of his days in happiness.”

"So he just kept forgetting, over and over?"

William nodded.

“I don’t get it. How is that happiness? That’s just….that’s crazy.

“Yes,” William said, “ I suppose it is.”

"What happened to the son?" He looked at William, eager to hear more. "Did he swear revenge and kill all of the other royals?"

"That I don't know."

"How about the wishing spirit? Did the king get any more wishes?"

"The story stops there."

Disappointed, Kel looked back at his hand. The scar had disappeared entirely, just like Hemlin’s memory. “Thank you William. I always like your stories, even the ones with weird endings.”

William nodded. He never smiled, but Kel had long ago realized that a nod was William’s own version of a smile. “Until next time.” Coming from a healer, it sounded a bit ominous.