We look for a nice table in the Parasite Inn.
Rather, the patrons spot Ismie (I mean she does stand out) and scatter in a semi-fluid not really constrained manner abandoning most of the tables in the room, just in case, she chooses the one where they were sitting. Ismie watches this with some amusement.
"Is this normal?" I ask.
"Yup," Ismie says. "Ever since I first said I was a witch, most everyone who has heard it scatters as if I am a loose wand shooting spells all willy nilly."
"Ah."
Ismie walks through the abandoned tables, ignoring them until she reaches an empty corner. We pause in the alcove.
Ismie whips out her wand.
The room goes into panic mode as the patrons flee in all directions, out windows, under tables, over the bar, up the stairs, into the ladies room.
"Dinerosa," Ismie whispers and with a pop a nice table and two chairs appears in the alcove. The table has a tablecloth with blue stars on a black backdrop, white china and slim wine glasses, utensils made of white pearl and pepper and salt shakers made to look like gnomes.
"Have a seat," Ismie says as she slides into the other one, she snaps her fingers in the air.
I sit down opposite her, my back to the wall, she is against the other wall and the Inn is to my left. I am struck again by her beauty.
"Thanks, that's really nice of you to keep saying that," Ismie says.
I blush and feel my heart do tiny flip flops.
"It happens. I like being with you too, I mean you are a sweet kid, a lot like your dad....I mean-" Ismie says, looks guiltily at her hands before whispering "whoops."
I gawk at her caught between fear, surprise and a certain dread that I know what she just really said.
"Any chance we could just forget I said that?" She ventures.
"You hate my father," I say, but I already know something is wrong with the statement.
"I don't hate Devin. He's an idiot, for sure, I might dislike him for the way he goes on with your mother, Saran," Ismie takes a deep breath, snaps her fingers again, looks across the bar, wave her wand. The wine arrives in 2 counts and is poured and the waitress disappears as fast as she appeared.
"Devin, I mean dad, is not my real father....the gnome Sprogsgu- was telling the truth," I say slowly.
Ismie gulps down the wine makes a face, taps the glass with her wand twice before tossing back the whole glass. She looks a bit sick and embarrassed.
"I'm sorry Charlie. I guess I may be as bad as Sprogsgutton when it comes to confidences."
"Wait that Gnome's name is Sprogsgutton?"
"Finally!" The gnome practically screams it from under the table.
We both look under the table to find Sprogsgutton there with both hands clamped over his mouth.
Sprogsgutton nods, still holding his hands over his mouth and scampers for the door, his new weasel tail swishing behind him.
I feel sick. I take a sip of the wine.
Ismie puts her hand on mine. It is oddly comforting. I should be angry.
"It's good that you aren't," Ismie says. "I mean you probably would have figured it out eventually."
"Is Queen Sam-" I choke on a sudden rush of fear.
"She is," Ismie says squeezing my hand, I feel better.
"Then..... Devin isn't- I mean that means Ralph is my-"
"Well, not exactly," Ismie says. She drinks more wine. "Sheesh, this is harder than it looks."
"So, Ralph isn't my father then who is?" I say, but I know that Ralph is.
"Ralph is technically your dad," Ismie starts then stops then laughs. "This is the trouble with witches."
"Ralph's a wizard.... isn't he?"
Ismie stops, opens her mouth, then closes it, then opens it again.
"It's complicated by magic and science." She finally says.
"What?"
Ismie looks over at the rest of the bar, everyone is studiously not listening to every word we have said.
"Stupify!" Ismie yells and the entire inn flees out the windows and doors.
"Did you just cast a spell?" I ask watching the rapid retreat.
"Did it look like a spell?" Ismie says pocketing her wand.
"Nope," Prince Charlie, magical expert.
"Well, they thought it was a spell," Ismie says.
A pregnant silence follows.
"Hmph, that's a word Ralph would use," Ismie says. "Look, Charlie, it's like this. Your dad, Devin was shooting blanks and Saran asked Ralph for help and he asked me since Wizards are bad with babies."
"Shooting blanks....?" I struggle to imagine Devin shooting anything.
Ismie stops, opens her mouth then closes it.
"Oh," I say. "The Birds and the Rabbits speech." I slap my forehead. I got that speech about 5 times from 4 different people at 5 different times.... none of which made sense. I later went to Ralph who gave me a book that made even less sense. In the end, Queen Sam explained it to me.
"Dad's is infertile?" I ask.
"He was, at the time," Ismie said. "No one knew it. I found out after an old Hag by the name of Malificnessa let it slip one night after a few drinks that Devin's Dad Kevin had insulted her Mother Magnifica and that Mag had curse Devin's family line with impotence for the insult. Malificnessa then said that her mom wasn't the best at curses and screwed up the curse but the end result was still sterility, so no one fixed it."
"I have a Grandfather?"
"Technically he's not your grandfather," Ismie says. "Technically he's an Oak Tree in the courtyard."
"Oh," I say, "You mean the one with the swing."
"That would be the one," Ismie says.
That's the trouble with witches, they seldom really forgive anyone.
"We do forgive but it does help if there is an apology."
"Anyway, I told Ralph who told your Mom and we came up with a plan to give King Devin a child."
So I am a child of Magic.
"Well, artificial insemination," Ismie adds.
"Artificial insemi- what?"
"Magic," Ismie says. "I had no other idea what it was before I cast it either, only Ralph does.
"And my brother?"
"Well, he is really Devin's child," Ismie says. "Those curses traded at your twelfth birthday had side effects."
"Oh," Because this somehow makes sense.
"I'm assuming that-" Ismie says. "I wasn't there, but given the accuracy of spell casting anything is suspect."
"So I am Ralph's Brat Kid after all."
"Told you so."
I punch Sprogsgutton in the nose without even looking at him.
"I'm sorry!" he screams as he flies across the room.
Ismie watches him go.
"I hate Gnomes."
"That makes two of us," Ismie says.
"Uh, a couple of things, Charlie?" Ismie says after Sprogsgutton hits the wall and shatters into several hundred ceramic pieces.
"Yeah?' I say, not surprised that Ismie would recurse the gnome at this point.
"Devin doesn't know." Ismie sighs. "So, if you corner Ralph over this, it would be nice not to do it in earshot."
"I wasn't going to tell my father anything."
We watch the Garden Gnome put himself back together.
"Ralph on the other hand-"
"I have a thing for Ralph if you haven't noticed," Ismie says, "So please don't be too hard on him."
"I am not going to kill him," I say, "He is my father, technically speaking."
"You did punch King Dev in the gut," Ismie says.
"So, I could punch Ralph in the gut. That would be allowed?"
"I would advise against it. You don't want trouble with Wizards, even the ones who are your father."
"Good point."
Rather, the patrons spot Ismie (I mean she does stand out) and scatter in a semi-fluid not really constrained manner abandoning most of the tables in the room, just in case, she chooses the one where they were sitting. Ismie watches this with some amusement.
"Is this normal?" I ask.
"Yup," Ismie says. "Ever since I first said I was a witch, most everyone who has heard it scatters as if I am a loose wand shooting spells all willy nilly."
"Ah."
Ismie walks through the abandoned tables, ignoring them until she reaches an empty corner. We pause in the alcove.
Ismie whips out her wand.
The room goes into panic mode as the patrons flee in all directions, out windows, under tables, over the bar, up the stairs, into the ladies room.
"Dinerosa," Ismie whispers and with a pop a nice table and two chairs appears in the alcove. The table has a tablecloth with blue stars on a black backdrop, white china and slim wine glasses, utensils made of white pearl and pepper and salt shakers made to look like gnomes.
"Have a seat," Ismie says as she slides into the other one, she snaps her fingers in the air.
I sit down opposite her, my back to the wall, she is against the other wall and the Inn is to my left. I am struck again by her beauty.
"Thanks, that's really nice of you to keep saying that," Ismie says.
I blush and feel my heart do tiny flip flops.
"It happens. I like being with you too, I mean you are a sweet kid, a lot like your dad....I mean-" Ismie says, looks guiltily at her hands before whispering "whoops."
I gawk at her caught between fear, surprise and a certain dread that I know what she just really said.
"Any chance we could just forget I said that?" She ventures.
"You hate my father," I say, but I already know something is wrong with the statement.
"I don't hate Devin. He's an idiot, for sure, I might dislike him for the way he goes on with your mother, Saran," Ismie takes a deep breath, snaps her fingers again, looks across the bar, wave her wand. The wine arrives in 2 counts and is poured and the waitress disappears as fast as she appeared.
"Devin, I mean dad, is not my real father....the gnome Sprogsgu- was telling the truth," I say slowly.
Ismie gulps down the wine makes a face, taps the glass with her wand twice before tossing back the whole glass. She looks a bit sick and embarrassed.
"I'm sorry Charlie. I guess I may be as bad as Sprogsgutton when it comes to confidences."
"Wait that Gnome's name is Sprogsgutton?"
"Finally!" The gnome practically screams it from under the table.
We both look under the table to find Sprogsgutton there with both hands clamped over his mouth.
Sprogsgutton nods, still holding his hands over his mouth and scampers for the door, his new weasel tail swishing behind him.
I feel sick. I take a sip of the wine.
Ismie puts her hand on mine. It is oddly comforting. I should be angry.
"It's good that you aren't," Ismie says. "I mean you probably would have figured it out eventually."
"Is Queen Sam-" I choke on a sudden rush of fear.
"She is," Ismie says squeezing my hand, I feel better.
"Then..... Devin isn't- I mean that means Ralph is my-"
"Well, not exactly," Ismie says. She drinks more wine. "Sheesh, this is harder than it looks."
"So, Ralph isn't my father then who is?" I say, but I know that Ralph is.
"Ralph is technically your dad," Ismie starts then stops then laughs. "This is the trouble with witches."
"Ralph's a wizard.... isn't he?"
Ismie stops, opens her mouth, then closes it, then opens it again.
"It's complicated by magic and science." She finally says.
"What?"
Ismie looks over at the rest of the bar, everyone is studiously not listening to every word we have said.
"Stupify!" Ismie yells and the entire inn flees out the windows and doors.
"Did you just cast a spell?" I ask watching the rapid retreat.
"Did it look like a spell?" Ismie says pocketing her wand.
"Nope," Prince Charlie, magical expert.
"Well, they thought it was a spell," Ismie says.
A pregnant silence follows.
"Hmph, that's a word Ralph would use," Ismie says. "Look, Charlie, it's like this. Your dad, Devin was shooting blanks and Saran asked Ralph for help and he asked me since Wizards are bad with babies."
"Shooting blanks....?" I struggle to imagine Devin shooting anything.
Ismie stops, opens her mouth then closes it.
"Oh," I say. "The Birds and the Rabbits speech." I slap my forehead. I got that speech about 5 times from 4 different people at 5 different times.... none of which made sense. I later went to Ralph who gave me a book that made even less sense. In the end, Queen Sam explained it to me.
"Dad's is infertile?" I ask.
"He was, at the time," Ismie said. "No one knew it. I found out after an old Hag by the name of Malificnessa let it slip one night after a few drinks that Devin's Dad Kevin had insulted her Mother Magnifica and that Mag had curse Devin's family line with impotence for the insult. Malificnessa then said that her mom wasn't the best at curses and screwed up the curse but the end result was still sterility, so no one fixed it."
"I have a Grandfather?"
"Technically he's not your grandfather," Ismie says. "Technically he's an Oak Tree in the courtyard."
"Oh," I say, "You mean the one with the swing."
"That would be the one," Ismie says.
That's the trouble with witches, they seldom really forgive anyone.
"We do forgive but it does help if there is an apology."
"Anyway, I told Ralph who told your Mom and we came up with a plan to give King Devin a child."
So I am a child of Magic.
"Well, artificial insemination," Ismie adds.
"Artificial insemi- what?"
"Magic," Ismie says. "I had no other idea what it was before I cast it either, only Ralph does.
"And my brother?"
"Well, he is really Devin's child," Ismie says. "Those curses traded at your twelfth birthday had side effects."
"Oh," Because this somehow makes sense.
"I'm assuming that-" Ismie says. "I wasn't there, but given the accuracy of spell casting anything is suspect."
"So I am Ralph's Brat Kid after all."
"Told you so."
I punch Sprogsgutton in the nose without even looking at him.
"I'm sorry!" he screams as he flies across the room.
Ismie watches him go.
"I hate Gnomes."
"That makes two of us," Ismie says.
"Uh, a couple of things, Charlie?" Ismie says after Sprogsgutton hits the wall and shatters into several hundred ceramic pieces.
"Yeah?' I say, not surprised that Ismie would recurse the gnome at this point.
"Devin doesn't know." Ismie sighs. "So, if you corner Ralph over this, it would be nice not to do it in earshot."
"I wasn't going to tell my father anything."
We watch the Garden Gnome put himself back together.
"Ralph on the other hand-"
"I have a thing for Ralph if you haven't noticed," Ismie says, "So please don't be too hard on him."
"I am not going to kill him," I say, "He is my father, technically speaking."
"You did punch King Dev in the gut," Ismie says.
"So, I could punch Ralph in the gut. That would be allowed?"
"I would advise against it. You don't want trouble with Wizards, even the ones who are your father."
"Good point."
