about.
"The Church of the Hundred. You know, the crazy people in robes? They're everywhere, you must have seen them."
I try to remember if I've seen any humans in robes. Maybe. It's not like I pay attention to anyone but my mark. When I'm not following the Song, I'm aimlessly riding around or stay at one of my homes. I don't mingle with humans.
"I still have no idea what you're talking about."
"You're not from around here?"
I take the excuse she gives me and nod.
"Surely you know the story of Hameln, though?"
Again, I nod. I push back all the dark memories threatening to surface. The first town. The first song. All those children. A shiver runs down my back. I try not to think of that day, yet it haunts me still.
"Then you know that one hundred children disappeared from that town, never to be seen again. Nobody ever found out what happened and I think most people forgot about it. Until the prophet appeared."
She sighs. "I don't know where he even came from. He just appeared and told everyone that another hundred children would be taken on the centenary of the original disappearance. Unless we'd change our ways and please the Creator he was preaching about."
"Creator? Like a deity?"
Again, she looks at me as if I'm stupid. "Yes. Are you not from around here? Is this not your house?"
"I've been...travelling."
I don't think she believes me, but she continues with her tale.
"He managed to make people scared enough to buy into his preachings. His followers really think that a hundred children will be taken again - but not only from Hameln. From every town that doesn't join his cult."
"That's preposterous," I say without thinking.
"It is indeed. Whoever took those children is long dead. There's no reason to fear that from happening again. Besides, nobody knows what happened to the children. They may have been taken to a better place, given a good life. Hameln was a horrible place back then, from what I've heard. Poverty, disease, crime. Not a town you'd want your children to grow up in."
She's wrong. Hameln was lovely. I remember the day the Song led me there. The sun was shining, warming the grass wet from a night of rain. The air smelled so fresh, so alive. Children were playing in the fields, happy and full of life. And then I took them.
My hands clench around my pipe. I destroyed that idyll.
"What does he want people to do?" I ask. "The Prophet?"
"Submit to his rule, basically. Relinquish all physical possessions and turn your wealth over to his Church. Agree to stay away from any intoxicating substances, even tea. Hand your children over to the Church to be educated by them rather than at normal schools. There are rumours that he separates married couples when he thinks that there's a better match for one of them. Of course, his followers never complain. They think they're protecting not just their own, but all children."
I scoff. "What idiots."
"Indeed. But now the Church has a presence in every town I've passed. It's spreading fast, especially now that the anniversary draws near."
Sixteen days. I know. I was thinking whether I should return to Hameln on that day. For old times' sake. To repent. To regret. And then to turn around and never to return.
"And you're running from them?" I ask. "Why?"
She instantly closes down. Her face becomes a mask, her eyes cold. "None of your business."
Yes, it is. I caused this, in a way. But of course, she will never know that.
Her stomach growls, giving me the perfect excuse to change the topic in the hope that she'll open up again.
"I'm sorry, I should have offered you some food. You must be hungry."
She gives me a small smile. "That would be nice. If it's no inconvenience."
I laugh. "None at all. What would you like?"
"Whatever you have. I'm not picky."
"I shall whip something up. In the meantime, there's a bathroom down the hall, if you want to take a shower or bath before breakfast."
To my relief, she takes the offer and walks away. I don't want her to witness my way of cooking. I head to the kitchen and wish her favourite food into existence.
A bowl of milk pudding appears on the counter, topped with thin slices of apple. It smells of cinnamon and some other spices. Not what I would have chosen, but this is for her. I don't need food, although I might eat a couple of spoonfuls just to pretend that