Last Tea Shop: The Tailor

Ild looked up at the sudden rapping at her door. It was fast and shook the whole cabin, so strong were the blows. Ild set aside her knitting with a huff and pulled herself out of her chair. “Yes, yes, hold yer horses! I only got so wide a stride, you know…”

The door opened to a terrified face, a man with pale skin and hollow cheeks. His wrinkles quivered as his head jerked back and forth, gasping for breath as he cast horrified glances behind him.

Ild knew what was scaring him. She had known since the shadowed mists had poured down the mountainside.

“Well, you’d best come inside, then,” she said, pulling the tall old man through the doorway. “Don’t you worry your head about it. The voices never harmed nobody, and they certainly ain’t going to start with somethin’ as tough and scrawny as you.”

The man wiped his forehead and sank heavily into the offered chair. The wood creaked loudly as he tipped forward, his head landing in his hands as he gasped for breath.

Ild hurried to the open windows and covered the openings with squares of fabric. “Not much for curtains,” she explained as she worked, “but they’ll keep out the worst of it.” She clicked her tongue as she adjusted the fabric. “Shadow mists, eh? Nasty bit o’ business, that. Been running a long time, I’ll bet. I was expecting you days ago.”

“What?” the man managed to gasp out a small squeak. “You…been waiting?”

“Well, not for you, as such,” Ild laughed, waving an aimless hand, “but I knew someone was coming, and they usually show up pretty quick when it’s something like…well, never you mind. None of your concern anymore, is it?”

“Those…” his quivering hand raised to point at the door, “those things were…”

“Said some awful things too, I bet,” Ild tsked gently as she moved over to her shelves. “Best not to pay them any mind. They can’t hurt you if you don’t let them.” She reached up and pulled a large white fluffy ball off the shelf and dropped it into her battered porcelain pot. “You’ve been through quite a lot, haven’t you?”

The man’s hand slowly lowered, his face a mask of dawning realization. “I’m…I’m dead, aren’t I?”

“Are you?” Ild placed the pot on its hook before turning around to the piles of junk. “Hmm…thought I saw one around here…”

“Are…are they…my devils?” The man curled up tighter, clutching at his thin silk garments with thin wrinkled hands. “Is my torment to begin now?” His head jerked as his eyes locked on Ild’s back. “Are you…are you Grandmother Death?”

“Ah!” Ild crowed with delight as she pulled a bent iron poker from the pile of detritus. “Here it is. Am I who?” Ild shook her head as she hobbled back to the fire and jabbed the bent iron into the crackling wood. “Honestly, I’ve never heard of half the names people call me by. My name is Ild, if you must know. Not many people ask my name, frankly. What’s this about devils?”

“We birth them in life,” the man muttered, his hands writhing around each other. “Every sin births another, every curse spoken against you…and then when you die…they come for you, to torture you and return the pain you inflicted on others a thousand fold. I…”

A loud scraping cut through the air as Ild shoved the small table next to the man. “You didn’t just realize you were dead, did you?” She patted him on the shoulder. “You realized something else.”

“I…” the man swallowed. “I was not a very nice man.”

“No?” Ild cocked her head.

“There were hundreds of them,” the man’s head shook gently from side to side. “I could hear them whispering, telling me all the horrible things they were going to do to me…all the things I…I deserve…”

The man’s head fell back into his hands. “Oh goddess! I deserve them all!”

“Hmm…” Ild wandered back to the pot, lifting it from the fire. “Well, I don’t know about that, but I bet you’ve been running for a lot longer than you should have. Here, try a spot of this, and see if that makes things easier to bear.”

The man looked up as the thin green liquid spilled into his cup. He stared, nonplussed, as Ild dropped a small rind of lemon in each cup and sat back in her own chair. “Come on then, drink up!”

“I…Thank you, but…”

“Come on,” Ild picked up her own cup and saucer, bringing the tea to her lips. “While it’s fresh.”

With furtive glances towards the door, the man reached out and picked up his tea. He took a tiny sip, then a bigger one.

“This is good,” he muttered, an uneasy smile playing about his lips.

“I should hope so,” Ild grinned. “Used my last Puffball to brew it. Thought it might help to put some distance between you and them.”

The tea disappeared from his cup, and then another cupful vanished. He licked his lips and blinked. “What was in that tea? I don’t recognize the blend.”

“Time,” Ild sighed, taking her last sip of her second cup. “Time and distance. Oh, and a bit of cinnamon and nutmeg. I find a bit of time makes all the bad things seem less important.”

“Yes, well…” the man set his cup down with his own tiny smile, “I suppose they were rather unimportant, in the big scheme of things. I was a tailor, you see, and people only come to the tailors shop for two reasons; to buy a fancy gown, or to gossip about fancy people. I’m afraid my tongue was probably…looser than might have been wise.”

“Mmm,” Ild gave a small nod. “I imagine you went to all the fancy parties, too?”

“Oh, certainly!” The tailor grinned. “There was always a grateful baroner or countess who would invite me to their gala ball, or…well, I suppose I let it get a bit to my head.”

Ild cocked her head. Something about this man… “Where did you live?”

“Oh, one of the biggest towns in the kingdom,” the tailor said with pride. “We are a center of education, culture, and economic might across the continent.” His face fell. “But you know, saying it out loud, now…I can’t think why I was so proud of that. I don’t suppose we were any kinder or wiser than any other people. I traveled a bit, you know, to different towns and different mansions for different parties…and it all kind of came out in the wash, didn’t it?”

“You didn’t happen to know a stablehand in town, did you? Young, about yay tall…”

“Ah!” The tailor frowned. “Yes, I knew him. He came into my shop one day, wanting a fine tunic to impress some girl or other. I sent him away, of course. No stablehand could afford my shirts, and…” he sighed again. “I was cruel to him. My tongue was never particularly kind, even on the best of days. I remember…”

The Tailor paused, his face a sudden mask of concern. “I…I think I saw him die.”

Ild leaned forward, her eyes sharp and piercing. “Did you, now?”

“I think,” the Tailor’s hand moved to his neck. “We were running from…” He stopped and looked at the covered windows. “I’ve been running a long time.”

“Weeks, I’ll wager,” Ild glanced in her guest’s cup. “Nothing wrong with that. Some people take longer than others.”

The Tailor stood up. “I am feeling much better now. I have occupied your time for far too long. How much do I owe you for the tea?”

“Oh, you don’t owe me anything,” Ild’s smile brightened the tumbledown cabin. “I doubt you have the coin I take, and besides, I’m delighted you spared the time. Remember, don’t listen to ’em.”

“Not devils at all,” he gave a grim nod, “merely liars.”

“Worse than that,” Ild ushered the Tailor to the door. “Sometimes they tell the truth. But if you listen to them when they tell the truth, you’ll listen when they tell a lie. Then they have you and you’ll end up believin’ all sorts o’ things, and you’ll never get to where you’re goin’.”

The Tailor bid his farewell, and with a steeling breath, walked out into the mists. Ild gave a satisfied nod, and shut the rickety door behind him.

She met a cluster of eyes as she turned back to the room. “Don’t give me that look. I ain’t here to judge nor pry. He was ready, so off he goes. You know how this works. Besides, I’m runnin’ low on supplies, and if we aim to give more than just soft-tea, we can’t go waistin’ it on people who’re already on their way.” Ild flapped her hands at the room. “Go on, now. Show’s over, and supper’s gonna be late.”

With a scurry of tiny feet, the swarm of mice vanished again amidst the collecton of lost items. Ild brushed her hands on her trousers before inspecting the floor where her guest had sat.

“Hmm,” she muttered almost silently, “Nothing from this one, either. I wonder…”