Unmaking Percy

Part II - I (The Hushing Manor)

Percy was a good horseman. He had proudly ridden with Evans and Valeria for over a week with barely a complaint on his part. Even though he had never travelled for so long, even though, each night, every hour spent on that mare's back ganged up on his dozing form to kick the shit out of him and leave him bruised for another beating the following day – despite all that, he had managed to not focus too much on how slowly time passed.

But he had never ridden with Myrtle before. And she was not the kind of person to allow time to pass her by unnoticed. She was not, in fact, the kind of person to allow anything to pass her by unnoticed. She had a ruthless curiosity which she exercised tirelessly – tirelessly, that was, on her end. After a day of riding with her questions for company, the horses looked more rested than their riders.

"What's the name of that river?"

"Where does this road lead to?"

"What's that village over there?"

"What are these herbs used for?"

Percy knew that travellers often sang to ease the road, but this was less of a choir and more of a responsory. To his surprise, Evans and Valeria replied to all of Myrtle's questions. Whenever they showed signs of fatigue, she had an astounding way of shifting her inquiries to any other matter that might interest them – swordsmanship, history, tea – and, like poking and prodding at the embers to urge on a fire, she always managed to keep their words going. Torturers had ways of making people talk when they didn't want to; Myrtle had ways of making people want to talk, and Percy thought it ten times more terrifying.

"What's the name of that mountain?"

"Jeremy."

Percy stifled his laughter at Valeria's deadpan answer. She rode on with the same impassable expression she wore so well. The mountain in question loomed over the road, its peak tearing straight into the heavy rainclouds clustered in the evening sky.

"Is that true?" Myrtle squinted.

"Why would I lie? Of course it's true. Named after cartographer Jeremy Omeroll."

Percy turned befuddled on his horse to face Valeria.

"Wait, it's actually called Jeremy?" he babbled.

"Why on earth didn't he name it Mount Omeroll? It would have sounded much better than Mount Jeremy" Myrtle said, outraged at such a miscarriage of naming.

"He was not an easy man, by all accounts."

Evans rode in front. Somehow, Percy could hear his smile all the way from there. He spurred on his mare until he reached Evans, and then slowed to a trot by his side.

"So where are we riding to?"

A few realizations were reaching him little by little, at a pace that, if not very efficient, was at least gentle on him. Myrtle's unparalleled ease in asking questions made Percy think he had perhaps been somewhat stupid to mistake obstinate silence for a show of strength. If a show of strength was to be found anywhere, it was in Myrtle's unabashed exposing of her ignorance and her determination to mend it.

"There's a mansion, not far from here, that's been affected by a curse" Evans replied. "I was considering heading there already. Then the sorceress in the castle spoke of it, and Myrtle mentioned it too, so I thought, that settles it. It sounds like a place we need to go to."

"You're the one who decides where we head to next, then? To break curses? Not those nobles and representatives from the palace?"

"No, they... They just check on me as I go" Evans murmured. His voice had barely grazed the word "check". Percy knew that "to check on him" could mean different things.