Wednesday has come around again, and I’m happy to present this week’s flash fiction.
Vesna jumped when the staff struck stone tiles behind her. The jar rattled as she placed it on the shelf. Tucking her hands behind her back, she turned and inclined her head to Rylith. His appearance’s timing was too coincidental for her nerves.
Rylith stood facing her, but with his head crooked sideways. His gaze remained unfocused but intent as if he listened instead of seeing. Another bad sign.
Vesna took a quick step forward, allowing her shoes to clack loudly. “What may I assist you with?” She hoped she’d pitched her voice correctly, high enough to mask the retreating footsteps and low enough to avoid being obvious in her attempt.
“What did Verity wish?” Rylith’s simple question dashed her hopes.
Tightening her fingers about each other, Vesna forced her expression to neutral. “He sought medicine.”
Rylith moved, abandoning his imitation of a statue, to sit in his chair with a creaking of the wood.
“Sickness has spread throughout the village.” Vesna continued, “He wanted to feel better.”
Scoffing, Rylith retrieved the book he’d left unattended on his table. “Let him suffer.”
“Let him… suffer?”
“Let Verity suffer.” Raising the book, he buried his face in the pages.
Vesna doubted that pose would be comfortable long. No more comfortable than the sickness his spell had spread. Vesna didn’t regret the curse she’d laid on the book. He’d read for a year and the village would breathe easily.
“Fetch me tea,” Rylith grumbled.
If only the spell had muffled him.
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