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Tarsakh 1474
Baldur’s Gate…and Elsewhere
“It’s beautiful out today, isn’t it?” Eliwyn throws her hands out to her side and lifts her face to the bright cerulean sky. “Warm, a nice breeze, and not a cloud in sight! The perfect day for running errands.”
Wyll, who is doing a sort of stiff shuffle along the pavement, crosses his arms tight and gives a small humph.
“I don’t want to do errands,” he says. “I don’t want to do errands ever, ever again!”
He stops dead and hangs his head in a pout. Eliwyn purses her lips at his moping. He’s been fighting her about this shopping trip ever since she arrived at the Ravengard manor this morning. She squats down before him and tucks a fist under her chin.
“I know you don’t, dearest. But I promised your cook I’d pick up a few things she needs for eventide.”
Eliwyn ducks her head to try and catch his eyes, but he refuses to look at her. She hates when he refuses to look at her.
“What if…,” she says slowly. “What if we make Harbreeze Bakery our first stop?”
Immediately, Wyll raises his head. He is all smiles, his big brown eyes brimming with delight. The promise of fried dough always does the trick with him.
So they beeline for the bakery which is blessedly empty. Within a few minutes Wyll is clutching a bag of still steaming fried and glazed dough balls. He is perfectly content, but Eliwyn is less so.
It has started to rain.
“I don’t understand,” she says as sheets of rain pelt to the ground, splattering water and mud onto her shoes. “It was a crystal clear day and now all of a sudden it’s pouring.” She sighs and leans against the front of the shop. Nothing to do now but wait it out.
Then, out of the wet curtain, a blurry figure jogs towards them. A young man carrying an umbrella and toting a bag with several more inside halts before them.
“My dear lady,” the man huffs. “Might I be correct in assuming you are in need of an umbrella?”
Eliwyn looks from the man to Wyll and back again. She is very anxious to get this shopping done as quickly as possible so as not to keep Mrs. Flatbrow from her preparations. “Yes, as a matter of fact I am.”
“Most excellent! I happen to be a purveyor of umbrellas and parasols." The man then pulls a rather large umbrella from his pack and hands it to Eliwyn. “This one should do nicely, I think. It will be just big enough to shelter you and the young master from this surprise Tarsakh shower.”
“How much is it?”
The man hesitates for a moment. “Why don’t you give it a try first? Make sure it is to your liking and then we can discuss the price. Yes?”
Eliwyn regards him for a moment. It’s a simple umbrella, a tool, a strictly functional accessory. What is there to like or dislike so long as it keeps the rain off of her and Wyll? But she shrugs and decides to humor the merchant.
“Make sure the young master is under there with you. You’ll want to be very sure it is big enough for the both of you.”
“Right, of course.” Eliwyn steps closer to Wyll and opens the umbrella.
It immediately falls from her hands.
The Wide is gone. No longer is she standing on the stoop of the bakery. She casts about with confusion. She seems to be in a cottage of sorts.
A rush of panic rises in her but quickly settles as she sees Wyll beside her. But then the panic returns. Where are they? How did they get here? How do they get back?
“Eliwyn…,” says Wyll in a small and tremulous voice.
“I…I don’t—“
“Ah, I thought I heard rain,” comes a warm voice. A young woman with dark hair enters through the doorway before them.
Eliwyn turns sharply towards the windows. It’s not raining here at all. In fact, it is what appears to be a bright and beautiful summer day, given the bold bounty of the garden beyond the window panes.
The young woman smiles kindly and sets a glass jug on the table. “I’ve just made lemonade. Would you two like some?”
“Yes please!” Wyll clambers up onto one of the chairs and pulls the jug towards him.
“Wyll, don’t!” Eliwyn snatches his hand away from the jug and stares hard at the woman.
She merely chuckles. “It’s alright. You are perfectly safe here.”
Eliwyn eyes her. “How can I trust you?”
“You’re a cleric, yes?” The woman nods to the symbol of Lathander about Eliwyn’s neck. “Ask your god for guidance.”
So, symbol in hand, Eliwyn does just that. She takes in the room and surveys the woman once again, this time with the wisdom and perception of Lathander’s divinity providing her with clarity.
There is nothing amiss. Only peace.
Eliwyn relaxes her grip on Wyll’s arm. The woman smiles again, motions for Eliwyn to sit, and disappears back into what seems to be the kitchen.
Now that her panic has subsided, Eliwyn is struck by just how tranquil the cottage is. The walls around them are made of warm wood. Bright sunlight streams in, patterning the floor with golden rectangules. It’s clean and tidy.
Along the wall next to them is a hutch containing earthen plates and jugs and other tableware painted in bright cheery hues. There is a small sitting area with squashy looking armchairs. Shelves filled with books and pictures and knick knacks cover the wall surrounding the fireplace. Eliwyn has never seen anywhere so…
Cozy.
Suddenly, Wyll gasps. “Look! Dragons!”
Eliwyn whips around to the direction of his little outstretched arm. Sure enough, swooping around the garden are three or four miniature dragons.
“You’re welcome to go play with them,” says the woman who has just returned with cups and a plate of biscuits. On her shoulder, its tail wrapped loose about her chest, is yet another tiny dragon. Its scales are an iridescent green, its butterfly-shaped wings like stained glass. “They’re faerie dragons. Perfectly good-natured, if a little mischievous sometimes.”
Wyll turns his best pleading look to Eliwyn. Against her better judgement perhaps, she nods. With a yelp of delight Wyll flies out the back door and into the garden. Another faerie dragon drifts lazily into the room and curls itself on the woman’s lap.
“So…where exactly are we?” Eliwyn asks.
The woman brings forward her long, dark plait and tickles the dragon’s head with the tip of her hair. It lets out a low sound that Eliwyn thinks must be the draconic equivalent of a cat’s purr.
“I’m not entirely sure,” says the woman. “I’ve taken to calling it ‘Elsewhere.’” The woman then tells Eliwyn how she is in fact trapped here and has been for a long, long time.
“But if you're stuck here, then…will we be stuck as well?” Alarm builds in Eliwyn’s stomach once more.
“No no. It is only I who am cursed. Others are perfectly able to come and go as they please. The wizard you met—the umbrella merchant—he is a frequent visitor of mine, in fact. When he’s not selling umbrellas he sells my dragons. Well,” she says as she reaches up and strokes the scaley body of the dragon on her shoulder, "except for these two. These two are my darlings. I call them Anarchy and Riot.”
Eliwyn chuckles. “And what is your name?”
The woman tilts her head. “Zandra. Zandra Thiefstar.”
“It’s lovely to meet you, Zandra,” Eliwyn says, and her words could not be more sincere. There is a certain familiarity and genuine warmth about Zandra that has made Eliwyn so at ease. The two women smile at each other.
Out in the garden, Wyll chases the dragons round and round. Eliwyn huffs a laugh to see him so happy. Then she remembers that they need to get back home. She has shopping to do and it will be highsun soon. “So how does this work? If we want to go back?”
“The portal will reopen after ten minutes have passed. Listen for the sound of rain and you’ll know it’s time to go.”
“Ten minutes? That’s it? That’s all we have?”
A sad smile pulls Zandra’s face down. “I’m afraid so…”
Sure enough, spattering like the sound of rain on an umbrella, fills the room. Eliwyn hurries Wyll back inside. He groans and complains and threatens to root his feet to the ground, but acquiesces when Eliwyn gives him a stern look.
“Thank you,” Eliwyn says as she takes up the umbrella. “This was wonderful. I…I do hope we can come back…”
The rainfall echoes louder and louder in the cottage.
“As do I,” says Zandra with a beaming smile. “Talk to Irdar. He’ll explain more.”
With that, Eliwyn opens the umbrella. The cottage, the dragons, and Zandra disappear.
“So, what do you think?”
The merchant, Irdar, stands propped against the exterior of the bakery. It is once again a clear and beautiful spring day.
“It was amazing!” Wyll hops about, his arms flailing wildly as he tells all about the cottage and the dragons. Soon, he is distracted by the puddles in the road, leaving Eliwyn to talk to Irdar.
“Why didn’t you tell me what would happen?”
Irdar gives her a cheeky smile. “I didn’t think you would go. But I needed you to.”
“Why?”
He shrugs and pushes off from the wall. “She gets lonely. I do my best, visit as often as I can, but she needs more than me. That’s why I invented this portal. So she can have other visitors. A friend.”
“But why me?”
“I’ve seen you here, in The Wide. There’s a kindness in your eyes that made me think you two might get along. And I knew she would enjoy seeing the boy play with her dragons.” Sadness darkens the wizard's eyes for a brief moment before he smiles that mischievous smile at Eliwyn again. “So, would you like to buy the umbrella? Anytime it rains the portal will activate. You need only stand underneath and it’ll take you to her.”
Eliwyn digs into her pockets and pulls out the coins requested. Irdar sweeps a low bow, bids Eliwyn and Wyll a good day, and strides off into the throng of shoppers.
Hand in hand, Eliwyn and Wyll go on about their errands. They chatter happily about the fantastical morning. She tells him about the umbrella and they make their plans for the next time a rain shower appears. Strangely, not too far away from the bakery, Eliwyn notices that the rest of the market seems entirely untouched by any rain at all.
***
“Wyll!”
Eliwyn bolts upright from where she is lounging under the willow tree. Wyll looks up from where he is sending leaves floating along the ripples cast by a rock he just chucked into the water.
“Look!” She points straight up. Great, heavy grey clouds rumble towards them. “I think it’s going to rain!”
They both scramble to their feet and tear through the Temple District into Citadel Streets. Eliwyn bursts through the door of her home, races up the steps, and snatches up the umbrella she keeps hung safely on the wall. She grabs the frail she keeps nearby and she and Wyll skitter down to the kitchen. They throw in all manner of things they can find that they think Zandra might like in addition to the more curated items already in the basket. A couple of books, some quills and ink and paper, and a lovely floral printed kerchief.
Raindrops tink against the window pane.
“Are you ready?” Eliwyn holds out her hand to Wyll.
“Ready!”
They step out into the rain and Eliwyn opens the umbrella.