| THE LORELEI SIGNAL |
.
| Written by Marie Croke / Artwork by Marge Simon |
| Make a donation to this writer |
| A Bauble for Your Thoughts |
Leave it to her neighbor to be a pain even after his
death. The shouts were continuing to grow louder as
the sun climbed, filtering in through the open window
of the kitchen where Isilde was kneading dough.
She bent over, ignoring the twinge in her hand and
attempting to do the same with the voices next door.
For a moment, she thought wistfully of her younger
days when her hands had been able to perform twice
the amount of work, then she laughed out loud, glad
for her remembered naivety to be behind her.
Then the shouts next door rose in volume causing
Isilde to scowl in annoyance. She wiped her hands
clean and pushed aside the quivering curtain,
intending to close the window. But her curiosity
stalled her hand for the men wore the dark blue
uniforms of the Inquisitors and not the king's red
she’d expected.
Much of the late Gorn's property was scattered about
the small front yard. Isilde watched as one of the
Inquisitors strode out of the house, a small nightstand
in his arms. He ripped open the drawers and dumped
the contents upon the ground, rifling through them
quickly. Isilde shook her head and tsked loudly, hoping
her disapproval was noticed.
She had never particularly liked Gorn, not since they'd
had a short fling back during her younger days that
she had ended abruptly, but that didn’t mean she'd
ever wished any harm on the man or for his death to
be followed so closely by a visit from the Inquisitors.
Not that she was surprised at either happening.
Gorn's daughter had mentioned his health had been f
ailing since his wife's death, and with both parents
dead, poor Gianna had no say to defend the rumors of
her father's possible dealings in the magical arts.
Isilde let the curtain slip down and went back to her waiting dough. It was a pity the Inquisitors were going
about their job so blatantly that Gorn's reputation could be at risk.
She didn’t care much of what people thought of that frustrating man, but Gianna was a sweet girl and didn’t
deserve any harsh treatment that might be carried down to her if there were any hanging doubts lingering in
the air after the Inquisitors’ visit.
Isilde’s hands complained painfully as she put them back to work. Sighing, she massaged them for a moment
hoping it would relieve some of the ache. Outside the window, voices became angry and more distinguishable
with the emotion. A young female voice joined the mix giving Isilde sudden concern.
Putting her best scowl to work, Isilde left her kitchen and walked sedately down her front steps. In her
neighbor's now cluttered front yard, Gianna looked to be near tears. Three of the Inquisitors, a tall glaring
woman, a youngish man with nervous hands and another man with a bearing that screamed of his authority,
were bombarding the poor girl with questions and demands.
"Excuse me," Isilde said as she pushed her way through the men, her demeanor leaving them no room to
complain. "I believe the laws state you have the right to search for proof among any of a dead suspect's
property, and other than your obvious lack of cleanliness." She glanced around disdainfully to emphasis her
point. "It’s then proper that you do so.
"However, Gianna is certainly not considered property in this country by any stretch of the imagination." Isilde
arched her eyebrows at the man who’d stepped forward.
Gianna passed a relieved glance at Isilde and mouthed a ‘thank you.’
The man's smug smile was almost unbearable as he responded, "We were merely following procedure and
asking questions of those who may have been privy to some of Gorn's...possible habits."
"Hmm." Isilde let a tight smile cross her face, but made sure no warmth crept as far as her eyes. "Well I am
glad to see Inquisitors are so thorough. I hope you show this same level of commitment to all possible cases,
including those in your own ranks." She glanced to the glinting small hoop earring in his right lobe, certain she
was right on target with her suspicion of the Inquisitors allowing themselves to keep confiscated baubles of
stored magic for their own devices.
The man's smugness dropped a fraction. "Of course."
Behind him, the nervous man glanced at the woman’s wrist where a few bangles sat, then coughed slightly
as if embarrassed at his instinctive reaction. Then the self-proclaimed leader quickly changed the subject. "As
Gorn's neighbor, had he given you anything recently for safekeeping? Perhaps something treasured as a gift?"
Isilde snorted. "That man hasn’t given me a single thing over the past thirty years but trouble." She turned
away from him and gave a warm smile to Gianna. "Come dear, I know things have been rough lately. Why
don't you come over and have some tea with me while they finish ransacking this place."
She heard a few of them shuffle their feet in what she hoped was shame and she ignored their leader’s half-
hearted attempts to stop her from leading Gianna back to her own home.
Once out of sight of the Inquisitors, sitting comfortably at Isilde's kitchen table Gianna relaxed and started to
ramble. "Oh, thank you, thank you, Miss Isilde. I know my father may have been dabbling in things he
shouldn't, but I didn’t think for a moment Inquisitors would go through all his and my things like this after he
was gone. I understood their concern when he was alive, which I guess was why he was so careful; so they
couldn’t find an excuse to do this then, but now it's..." she paused as Isilde handed her a warm cup.
Taking a moment to blow over the top of the tea, sending ripples along its surface, Gianna resumed after
taking a sip. "I don’t know. I think maybe I'm just still coping with them both dieing. I don’t think they would
have normally affected me like this." She dabbed the corners of her eyes lightly and looked up at Isilde.
"Well." Isilde sat heavily in the seat next to Gianna and patted the younger woman's hand. "Inquisitors tend
to be inconsiderate, that's all. Any chance at finding something they can keep for their own and they're
slavering over the opportunity like dogs."
Gianna sniffed but gave the older woman a weak smile. "Thank you again. I know you didn’t much care for
him, so coming from you that means a lot. To be honest, I almost wish I did know what father could have
used to store magic so I could just give it to them and be done with it."
Rapping her knuckles on Gianna's hand, Isilde sat up straighter, her demeanor hard. "Now, you listen to me.
Giving Inquisitors what they want will only serve to whet their appetite. I'm glad Gorn was smart enough to
hide his storing devices for he's been dabbling since I've met him. And that’s a damn long time. Those men
wouldn’t stop searching for more if you did that and they'd never leave you along."
Gianna bowed her head over her tea, abashed, then lifted a puzzled expression to Isilde. “So that means he
had been experimenting with magic, but, you knew?"
"We all do things a little wild in our younger days." Isilde smiled, her eyes losing focus in remembrance, then
she shook her head and picked up her tea. "He was much more into that world than I ever was. Part of why
we didn’t get along after our first few months together. I have my suspicions that your mother attracted him
because of her own dabbling." Isilde winked at Gianna's shocked face.
"But the laws forbid working any magic." Gianna's voice was barely above a whisper.
Isilde shrugged. "The laws forbid a lot, and only those enforcing them have any rights." She sighed before
continuing. "Every year there are more rules, that’s not always for the best, despite intentions. I think Gorn
was right to do what he loved. While he was not the nicest person, it was a comfort to know I had a neighbor
who could hold his own if anything were to happen around here. There are no such rules that prohibit magic
in other countries and some of them have violent tendencies."
"The king's guard has people who could fight it..." Gianna's voice petered out at Isilde's raised eyebrows.
"I highly doubt a village so small it lacks a name would be important enough for the elite king's guards to
come protect us. I guarantee we would be considered ‘unfortunate losses.’ With Gorn here, there had been
an element of safety we could entertain, now, I’m sure I’m not the only one who’s more than a bit worried."
Gianna fiddled with her lip, her eyes glazed in anguish. "I wish they'd trusted me enough to share what
they'd learned."
"Perhaps they did. Have they ever given you something special of theirs? Could be they gave you whatever
storing devices they’d accumulated during their dabbling for when you were old enough to use them yourself.
I'd assume that's why the Inquisitors are so interested in you." Isilde glanced out the window over the top of
her tea.
Standing suddenly, Gianna followed her gaze. "Oh, you're right. Thank you again, Miss Isilde, but I should be
over there in case they do find something."
Isilde smiled as Gianna disappeared from the kitchen. A moment later the front door slammed and Isilde was
left sipping lightly, mind rolling over youthful memories. She heard Gianna's voice, risen with confidence, filter
in through the window and hoped whatever Gorn may have given the young lady was well enough hidden or
disguised that the Inquisitor's trained eyes would miss it.
Then she cocked her head to the side as a sudden thought occurred to her. She placed her tea down and
wandered upstairs to her bedroom. The cross-breeze blew through the hallway and gently banged her door
against the wall as she entered.
Isilde opened her jewelry box and lifted out the forgotten gift Gorn had given her on her last birthday. She
had thought at the time he was mocking her age with such an inappropriate gift.
The necklace was a mismatched one, the beads both glass and stone with an odd wooden one here and
there. Their colors ranged the spectrum, and not in any pretty pattern. It was gaudy and ugly, nothing Isilde
would have actually worn for any occasion.
She looked closely at the shoddy connections holding the necklace together and mumbled in annoyance at
Gorn's audacity at hiding them with her without even asking. The beads blinked ever so slightly in their
depths, barely visible with the sun glowing on them.
Isilde placed the multitude of clinking magical containers gently back in the box and stared down at the mess
in the neighboring yard. Gianna was shoving a stern finger into the chest of one of the Inquisitors. Isilde
smiled. With that kind of confidence Gianna would be upholding Gorn’s place soon enough as hidden protector
of their little village.
death. The shouts were continuing to grow louder as
the sun climbed, filtering in through the open window
of the kitchen where Isilde was kneading dough.
She bent over, ignoring the twinge in her hand and
attempting to do the same with the voices next door.
For a moment, she thought wistfully of her younger
days when her hands had been able to perform twice
the amount of work, then she laughed out loud, glad
for her remembered naivety to be behind her.
Then the shouts next door rose in volume causing
Isilde to scowl in annoyance. She wiped her hands
clean and pushed aside the quivering curtain,
intending to close the window. But her curiosity
stalled her hand for the men wore the dark blue
uniforms of the Inquisitors and not the king's red
she’d expected.
Much of the late Gorn's property was scattered about
the small front yard. Isilde watched as one of the
Inquisitors strode out of the house, a small nightstand
in his arms. He ripped open the drawers and dumped
the contents upon the ground, rifling through them
quickly. Isilde shook her head and tsked loudly, hoping
her disapproval was noticed.
She had never particularly liked Gorn, not since they'd
had a short fling back during her younger days that
she had ended abruptly, but that didn’t mean she'd
ever wished any harm on the man or for his death to
be followed so closely by a visit from the Inquisitors.
Not that she was surprised at either happening.
Gorn's daughter had mentioned his health had been f
ailing since his wife's death, and with both parents
dead, poor Gianna had no say to defend the rumors of
her father's possible dealings in the magical arts.
Isilde let the curtain slip down and went back to her waiting dough. It was a pity the Inquisitors were going
about their job so blatantly that Gorn's reputation could be at risk.
She didn’t care much of what people thought of that frustrating man, but Gianna was a sweet girl and didn’t
deserve any harsh treatment that might be carried down to her if there were any hanging doubts lingering in
the air after the Inquisitors’ visit.
Isilde’s hands complained painfully as she put them back to work. Sighing, she massaged them for a moment
hoping it would relieve some of the ache. Outside the window, voices became angry and more distinguishable
with the emotion. A young female voice joined the mix giving Isilde sudden concern.
Putting her best scowl to work, Isilde left her kitchen and walked sedately down her front steps. In her
neighbor's now cluttered front yard, Gianna looked to be near tears. Three of the Inquisitors, a tall glaring
woman, a youngish man with nervous hands and another man with a bearing that screamed of his authority,
were bombarding the poor girl with questions and demands.
"Excuse me," Isilde said as she pushed her way through the men, her demeanor leaving them no room to
complain. "I believe the laws state you have the right to search for proof among any of a dead suspect's
property, and other than your obvious lack of cleanliness." She glanced around disdainfully to emphasis her
point. "It’s then proper that you do so.
"However, Gianna is certainly not considered property in this country by any stretch of the imagination." Isilde
arched her eyebrows at the man who’d stepped forward.
Gianna passed a relieved glance at Isilde and mouthed a ‘thank you.’
The man's smug smile was almost unbearable as he responded, "We were merely following procedure and
asking questions of those who may have been privy to some of Gorn's...possible habits."
"Hmm." Isilde let a tight smile cross her face, but made sure no warmth crept as far as her eyes. "Well I am
glad to see Inquisitors are so thorough. I hope you show this same level of commitment to all possible cases,
including those in your own ranks." She glanced to the glinting small hoop earring in his right lobe, certain she
was right on target with her suspicion of the Inquisitors allowing themselves to keep confiscated baubles of
stored magic for their own devices.
The man's smugness dropped a fraction. "Of course."
Behind him, the nervous man glanced at the woman’s wrist where a few bangles sat, then coughed slightly
as if embarrassed at his instinctive reaction. Then the self-proclaimed leader quickly changed the subject. "As
Gorn's neighbor, had he given you anything recently for safekeeping? Perhaps something treasured as a gift?"
Isilde snorted. "That man hasn’t given me a single thing over the past thirty years but trouble." She turned
away from him and gave a warm smile to Gianna. "Come dear, I know things have been rough lately. Why
don't you come over and have some tea with me while they finish ransacking this place."
She heard a few of them shuffle their feet in what she hoped was shame and she ignored their leader’s half-
hearted attempts to stop her from leading Gianna back to her own home.
Once out of sight of the Inquisitors, sitting comfortably at Isilde's kitchen table Gianna relaxed and started to
ramble. "Oh, thank you, thank you, Miss Isilde. I know my father may have been dabbling in things he
shouldn't, but I didn’t think for a moment Inquisitors would go through all his and my things like this after he
was gone. I understood their concern when he was alive, which I guess was why he was so careful; so they
couldn’t find an excuse to do this then, but now it's..." she paused as Isilde handed her a warm cup.
Taking a moment to blow over the top of the tea, sending ripples along its surface, Gianna resumed after
taking a sip. "I don’t know. I think maybe I'm just still coping with them both dieing. I don’t think they would
have normally affected me like this." She dabbed the corners of her eyes lightly and looked up at Isilde.
"Well." Isilde sat heavily in the seat next to Gianna and patted the younger woman's hand. "Inquisitors tend
to be inconsiderate, that's all. Any chance at finding something they can keep for their own and they're
slavering over the opportunity like dogs."
Gianna sniffed but gave the older woman a weak smile. "Thank you again. I know you didn’t much care for
him, so coming from you that means a lot. To be honest, I almost wish I did know what father could have
used to store magic so I could just give it to them and be done with it."
Rapping her knuckles on Gianna's hand, Isilde sat up straighter, her demeanor hard. "Now, you listen to me.
Giving Inquisitors what they want will only serve to whet their appetite. I'm glad Gorn was smart enough to
hide his storing devices for he's been dabbling since I've met him. And that’s a damn long time. Those men
wouldn’t stop searching for more if you did that and they'd never leave you along."
Gianna bowed her head over her tea, abashed, then lifted a puzzled expression to Isilde. “So that means he
had been experimenting with magic, but, you knew?"
"We all do things a little wild in our younger days." Isilde smiled, her eyes losing focus in remembrance, then
she shook her head and picked up her tea. "He was much more into that world than I ever was. Part of why
we didn’t get along after our first few months together. I have my suspicions that your mother attracted him
because of her own dabbling." Isilde winked at Gianna's shocked face.
"But the laws forbid working any magic." Gianna's voice was barely above a whisper.
Isilde shrugged. "The laws forbid a lot, and only those enforcing them have any rights." She sighed before
continuing. "Every year there are more rules, that’s not always for the best, despite intentions. I think Gorn
was right to do what he loved. While he was not the nicest person, it was a comfort to know I had a neighbor
who could hold his own if anything were to happen around here. There are no such rules that prohibit magic
in other countries and some of them have violent tendencies."
"The king's guard has people who could fight it..." Gianna's voice petered out at Isilde's raised eyebrows.
"I highly doubt a village so small it lacks a name would be important enough for the elite king's guards to
come protect us. I guarantee we would be considered ‘unfortunate losses.’ With Gorn here, there had been
an element of safety we could entertain, now, I’m sure I’m not the only one who’s more than a bit worried."
Gianna fiddled with her lip, her eyes glazed in anguish. "I wish they'd trusted me enough to share what
they'd learned."
"Perhaps they did. Have they ever given you something special of theirs? Could be they gave you whatever
storing devices they’d accumulated during their dabbling for when you were old enough to use them yourself.
I'd assume that's why the Inquisitors are so interested in you." Isilde glanced out the window over the top of
her tea.
Standing suddenly, Gianna followed her gaze. "Oh, you're right. Thank you again, Miss Isilde, but I should be
over there in case they do find something."
Isilde smiled as Gianna disappeared from the kitchen. A moment later the front door slammed and Isilde was
left sipping lightly, mind rolling over youthful memories. She heard Gianna's voice, risen with confidence, filter
in through the window and hoped whatever Gorn may have given the young lady was well enough hidden or
disguised that the Inquisitor's trained eyes would miss it.
Then she cocked her head to the side as a sudden thought occurred to her. She placed her tea down and
wandered upstairs to her bedroom. The cross-breeze blew through the hallway and gently banged her door
against the wall as she entered.
Isilde opened her jewelry box and lifted out the forgotten gift Gorn had given her on her last birthday. She
had thought at the time he was mocking her age with such an inappropriate gift.
The necklace was a mismatched one, the beads both glass and stone with an odd wooden one here and
there. Their colors ranged the spectrum, and not in any pretty pattern. It was gaudy and ugly, nothing Isilde
would have actually worn for any occasion.
She looked closely at the shoddy connections holding the necklace together and mumbled in annoyance at
Gorn's audacity at hiding them with her without even asking. The beads blinked ever so slightly in their
depths, barely visible with the sun glowing on them.
Isilde placed the multitude of clinking magical containers gently back in the box and stared down at the mess
in the neighboring yard. Gianna was shoving a stern finger into the chest of one of the Inquisitors. Isilde
smiled. With that kind of confidence Gianna would be upholding Gorn’s place soon enough as hidden protector
of their little village.
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Marie Croke's brain resides in her little toe, so all the bruising it receives from
rattling around all day might account for the random ideas that pop out. She lives
in Hollywood (no, not that one, the one in Maryland) with her fiancé and son, both
of whom like to scribble messages in her notebooks when she's not looking. She's
unsure of which one uses crayon.
She has work either published or forthcoming in Emerald Tales, Outshine and
Nanoism.
Anyone is welcome at her website: www.mariecroke.com
rattling around all day might account for the random ideas that pop out. She lives
in Hollywood (no, not that one, the one in Maryland) with her fiancé and son, both
of whom like to scribble messages in her notebooks when she's not looking. She's
unsure of which one uses crayon.
She has work either published or forthcoming in Emerald Tales, Outshine and
Nanoism.
Anyone is welcome at her website: www.mariecroke.com