Last Tea Shop: The Veiled One

It was raining.

Not a downpour, but a chill drizzle, persistent and steady. The whole world seemed tired somehow; the mountain breeze was slow drifting through the pass and the river beneath the bridge was quiet. A calm had descended over the pass like a blanket, keeping everything still and peaceful.

Ild twisted the sage between her fingers, staring at the fibrous herb with something like trepidation. The soft popping of the boiling water tickled the back of her mind as she stared, aimlessly stroking a cluster of mice where they rested on her lap. She listened to the sound of the rain pattering on the roof, ticking and tapping away like a broken clock. The whole hut shuttered from the wind, and drops of rain were leaking in to drip on the old clothes, tarnished metals, and smooth wooden furniture.

“Pah,” she said at last, nudging the mice on their way. “If it’s time, it’s time.” Standing up from her chair, she walked over to the pot and dropped the sage in the water. She watched as the water slowly faded from clear to a murky gray, then brightened to a light green. Leaving it to seep, she reached out to pluck her old ragged coat from the pile and slip it on. “Keep watch,” she said, unnecessarily, as she unbolted the shaky door.

The mountain pass was beautiful in the rain. Ild could see the path stretch down into the valley and the forest of trees that flanked it. She could hear the rain echo from below where it tapped on the leaves and branches of the forest. She could smell the scent of wet earth and a sky full to bursting with water. “More coming,” Ild mused as she wrapped her arms in her coat. “A bit more, at least.”

She watched the path as it wound its way through the trees. Before long, she thought she saw a movement just at the edge of her vision. She stared, refusing to budge as the movement became a shape, then a figure, then a person walking closer to the cottage.

Ild didn’t move. The rain was soaking through her clothes, but she didn’t mind. It was good to be in the rain sometimes.

At last, the figure made its way to where Ild was standing. They were tall, thick, and wore a gray veil over their face. Their movements were slow and labored. They looked as if the whole world was on their shoulders, and oftentimes Ild suspected that it was.

“I…request permission to enter,” the veiled one whispered through the rain.

“Of course,” Ild stood aside, gesturing with one hand to the door of her hut.

The veiled one’s relief was palpable. The rain let up for only a moment before returning in force, making sure Ild was soaked to the bone before she managed to get inside.

“Tea should be done in a moment,” Ild muttered as she wrung out her clothing. The veiled one was already sitting in their chair, gently scratching the chin of one of the many mice that covered the room. “You been traveling long?”

“Long enough to get here,” the veiled one said, their head sagging towards the table. “Long enough.”

“Well, we’ll soon have some nice warm tea in you, and then you’ll be right as — well, fit to trot again, at least.”

The veiled one didn’t respond. Their face was hidden but Ild could see their body sag. The rain that had soaked their clothing was still there, gently dripping onto the gnarled wooden floor.

Ild slowly sat down. For a moment there was nothing but the sound of bubbling water and falling rain. A periodic contented squeak from a mouse flit around the room, only to vanish into silence.

“How have you been?” Ild asked.

The veiled one looked up, eyes unseen behind the thick cloth.

Ild flopped her hands on the table. “I’m no good at this. By the wind and rain, if you were one of the dead who stop by, I’d —”

“Talk to me,” the veiled one said.

Ild’s voice caught. “I’m sorry?”

The veiled one’s head gently cocked to the side, their voice losing what edge it had. “Talk to me…as if I was one of the dead. If I had just ‘stopped by.’”

“Well,” Ild scratched her neck, “that’s more…a figure of speech, you understand. The dead don’t just stop by, they come here because…” she stopped. The inscrutable gaze of the veiled one was hard to weather. She cleared her throat and straightened her shirt. Linking her fingers together, she leaned forward, resting her hands on the table.

“You realized something,” Ild began. “Just now. What was it?”

The veiled one looked away. Even through the veil it was a look of such discomfort that Ild was unsettled. There was something larger happening here than a formal visit.

“I…” the veiled one said at last, when the silence became too much to bear, “am exhausted.”

Ild froze. With a strength she didn’t realize she had, she kept her mouth from dropping open. The rain continued to fall, drilling down on the hut’s leaky roof.

“Time,” the veiled one continued, “weighs heavily. Even that which we bear lightly grows heavier with time. Choices made, fortunes altered, fates fulfilled…”

Ild looked out the window at the drizzling sheets. She hadn’t thought it possible.

“I find myself wondering,” the veiled one shook their head. “Wondering. Can you imagine what that feels like for one such as I?”

Ild slowly reached out her hands to her guest and gripped their fingers in hers. Their skin was cold and smelled of grass. Ild locked her gaze with where the veiled one’s eyes should have been. “I thought the rain was for me!”

The veiled one pulled back a bit, confusion and surprise slowly shifting into a shared understanding. They bowed their head and gripped Ild’s palms tightly. For a moment, neither of them said anything.

Then: “Oh, the tea!” Ild shot up and ran to the pot. The sage had steeped for far longer than she had planned, but a little extra honey could take care of that. She poured quickly and pushed the full tea-cup towards her guest. “I brewed this for a stablehand who came by some days ago. Poor lad had just been killed in some stupid war.”

“Did you find the culprit?” The veiled one asked, gently taking the cup from its saucer.

“Oh, it’s all of them,” Ild grimaced. “They all did it, every time. There’s no escaping it.”

“Hmm,” the veiled one took a deep breath of the aromatic tea. “A comforting brew?”

“I usually make it with feather moss,” Ild admitted, “and don’t steep it so long, but I’ve been low on supplies for some time.” She paused with the cup almost to her lips. “It’s been harder these days. I had to help a diplomat without any extra ingredients at all. Just regular old gumboot tea.”

“Sometimes that’s more than enough, I’m sure.” The veiled one raised their own cup and paused as well. “Death is a powerful thing, but only because it must be to end life. I am sure you being here and listening is more than all the special teas and lost items in existence.”

“Mmm,” Ild nodded before looking back at her cup. The veiled one didn’t move.

After a moment, the veiled one spoke again; “Why is it so hard to drink?”

Ild sighed. “I don’t know. Maybe we’ve gotten too used to our pains. Maybe we’re worried that if we take that away…well, what’s left?”

“It’s terrifying to believe there is something better,” the veiled one nodded. “I see it every day, but I still do not understand why.”

“Maybe no one does.”

The two friends stared at each other a moment longer before they both drank their tea.

“I’m sorry,” the veiled one waved their hand. “I have been remiss.”

Ild shifted in her suddenly dry clothing. “It’s no matter. I’ve been wet before, and I will be again.” The rain continued to fall, but it was outside. For now, they were safe and secure. She took another sip. “You know about the Tailor, I suspect, and the Hermit? I know you know about the Diplomat, what with the dried sage and all…”

“Yes,” the veiled one gave a gentle nod. “There was great grief and fear in each of them, I knew you could help.”

“Shorter links than usual,” Ild remarked, tapping the table with her fingers. “Only four of them. Sometimes I get eight in here, all pulled on a single thread.”

“It’s a strange web,” the veiled one brushed their veil with their fingertips. “So many stories linked together in a single cloth. There is a difference between the forest and the trees, but you cannot have one without the other. Nevertheless, I am proud of what you have done here.”

Ild snorted as she gestured to the collected detritus. “Well, I’ll admit it hasn’t been easy. There are a lot of people in the world, and they all have to come through here sooner or later. Everything lost comes here eventually.”

“It is hard,” the veiled one continued. “Things continue to change, and ebb, and flow. Turning the wheel is not a quick or easy task. I can only imagine what it is like for the millstone, much less the grain.”

“You just keep moving,” Ild nodded. “You can’t know if it’s the right direction, because there isn’t a correct direction to go. You pick up what other people leave behind, you help them shed the things that weigh them down…”

“Have you found anything new?”

Ild blinked as she looked up at her guest. She sighed. “Oh, my friends are always dragging something-or-other over the mountain. Anything catch your eye?”

“I’d never take from your collection, you know that, Ild.”

“Well, I know you say that, but I know you’re not as constant as you try to be.”

A small hiccup of laughter filtered out from under the veil, joining with Ild’s snickering. When they were finished, the veiled one set down her empty cup. “What would you say now?”

“I’m sorry?”

“If I was one of them, one of the transients, what would you say now, after we have finished our tea?”

“Well,” Ild leaned back, staring at the ramshackle ceiling. “I’d ask another question, probably, like ‘where did you live?’”

“Ah,” the veiled one slowly leaned back. “That would not work for me, would it?”

“No,” Ild smiled. “No it wouldn’t.”

“So what question would you ask me?”

Ild opened her mouth, and stopped. Of all the people Ild had ever known, she knew the veiled one the least of all. What questions couldn’t she ask? There were so many, she could spend the rest of time asking them all. Questions about the wheel, the hill, the constant pushing…

She could ask why they were exhausted now of all times. After centuries, eons, times beyond time, why was the weight on their shoulders now too much? What was different about today?

But that was a question about what had happened before the veiled one had walked down the long path through the mountain pass. Who knew what they had seen or smelled or heard on that long walk. Who could know?

She always asked her guests about before. Maybe it was finally time to let go of something herself.

“What happens next?”

The veiled one leaned back, their head tilted to the side. The veil lay gently against their cheek and the side of their nose, giving Ild the closest image of their face that she would ever see. In her imagination, it was a kind face.

“I am bound,” they said at last. “I will return to my hill and continue my work as no one else can. You…” they tapped their teacup with a long nail, “have no such chains.”

“What,” Ild snorted after a moment of disbelief, “Just leave? Just like that?” She looked around her dilapidated cabin. “What about the tea?”

“There will be others. There always have been. People will continue to die, they will come here because they need solace, comfort, to forget. Someone will always be here to help them, if they wish it.”

“And what happens to me?”

“I don’t know,” the veiled one’s voice held a coy smile. “Which direction will you go in?”

Ild considered. Had it been anyone else, she would have laughed. “Seems I’ve got two options; ‘cross the bridge or back down the path, through the pass. Never thought about goin’ that way, frankly. Seems a might bit o’ trouble.”

“Down or across,” the veiled one said. “Through or over. Along or around.”

“Nothin’ for me over the bridge,” Ild continued, reaching out to pet one of her many furry friends. “Unless you been hidin’ somat from me about what’s on the other side.”

“I don’t know myself,” the veiled one laughed lightly. “I’ve told you a hundred times.”

“Exactly,” Ild grinned back before reaching her hands over her head and heaving a stretch. “Well, it’s always easier to talk than to do. I won’t be moving on anytime soon, I’d wager. Got to restock the shelf, first of all.”

“Then there’s the roof needs ficing, the holes need patching…”

“Don’t you take that tone with me, I didn’t ask you to come here.” Ild was smiling as she said it, even though she knew it was something of a lie.

The veiled one said no more, but stood up and took Ild’s hands. Their farewell was silent, as had been their greeting, as had all their hellos and goodbyes. Ild opened the door for them, and watched as they made their way back down the pass.

“Hmm.” Ild considered as she looked down the path then over the bridge. The rain had stopped, and the clouds hung gently in the sky. It was looking to be a beautiful day for foraging. “Yes,” she muttered half to herself, half to the mice on her shoulders, “I think I know which direction I’d go in.”

And with that, she shut the door.