Door Handle.
Weariness overcomes you at the thought of a chance to rest. The answers can wait, for now.
~ ~ ~
The penetrating hum comes and goes as you leave the two men and follow her through this unfathomable room. Nothing here has any recognisable purpose. Strange platforms on thick stems, each supported by five wheels are parked under what look like work benches. They could be chairs, perhaps. But the white boards resting on each of the benches, with their rows of raised squares, and the luminous panels that rise behind them these are beyond any imagination.
Lizzie leads the way out into the corridor. "Bathroom," She points to one of two doors. It bears a symbol, a simple depiction of a man. The door next to it has a similar sign, perhaps it represents a woman.
She waits, her eyes lowered to the floor. "Okay, Alfie, since it's only the four of us here right now, I'll show you around." She shoves the door open. Her red and white shoes squeak on the shiny floor, and every sound echoes here. She points to a line of rounded receptacles hanging on the wall.
"They're to pee in. But only pee. Understand? In here - " she pushes open yet another door to a tiny compartment barely large enough for one person - "I believe that in your world, you call this a privy."
A privy. The shape of the seat over the bowl-like contraption inside is recognisable for what she says it is - there is even a box attached to the wall that has sheets of paper.
She waves her hand above the bowl and it fills with a swirl of water, gushing from nowhere. It is loud and fierce, but as quickly as it fills it subsides, and a gurgling sound rattles from the walls and ceiling.
What magic is this? Why is she laughing?
"You look terrified! Look, I'll show you." She raises your hand to the wall and helps you mimic the enchantment she cast on the bowl. Incredibly, it obeys your command too.
Lizzie steps out of the cubicle. "Come, let me show you where you can shower and dress."
~ ~ ~
The reflection staring back from the mirror is a picture of impossibility. So this is how it feels to be a sorcerer; to command hot and cold water to fall from the ceilings and body-drying air to blow from the walls all with the wave of a hand.
Nostrils flared, you take in the mix of scents from the potions lathered and rinsed from your hair and body. This new clothing feels soft, and smells of springtime forests. The weave of the cloth on this shirt is so small it is almost impossible to see. The breeches are blue, and like Lizzie's and her friends', reach down to the floor. Less comfortable are the stockings, it feels odd to have them stop just above the ankles, but the shoes feel like you are walking on air.
You leave to rejoin the others, with only one request of them.
~ ~ ~
The penetrating hum comes and goes as you leave the two men and follow her through this unfathomable room. Nothing here has any recognisable purpose. Strange platforms on thick stems, each supported by five wheels are parked under what look like work benches. They could be chairs, perhaps. But the white boards resting on each of the benches, with their rows of raised squares, and the luminous panels that rise behind them these are beyond any imagination.
Lizzie leads the way out into the corridor. "Bathroom," She points to one of two doors. It bears a symbol, a simple depiction of a man. The door next to it has a similar sign, perhaps it represents a woman.
She waits, her eyes lowered to the floor. "Okay, Alfie, since it's only the four of us here right now, I'll show you around." She shoves the door open. Her red and white shoes squeak on the shiny floor, and every sound echoes here. She points to a line of rounded receptacles hanging on the wall.
"They're to pee in. But only pee. Understand? In here - " she pushes open yet another door to a tiny compartment barely large enough for one person - "I believe that in your world, you call this a privy."
A privy. The shape of the seat over the bowl-like contraption inside is recognisable for what she says it is - there is even a box attached to the wall that has sheets of paper.
She waves her hand above the bowl and it fills with a swirl of water, gushing from nowhere. It is loud and fierce, but as quickly as it fills it subsides, and a gurgling sound rattles from the walls and ceiling.
What magic is this? Why is she laughing?
"You look terrified! Look, I'll show you." She raises your hand to the wall and helps you mimic the enchantment she cast on the bowl. Incredibly, it obeys your command too.
Lizzie steps out of the cubicle. "Come, let me show you where you can shower and dress."
~ ~ ~
The reflection staring back from the mirror is a picture of impossibility. So this is how it feels to be a sorcerer; to command hot and cold water to fall from the ceilings and body-drying air to blow from the walls all with the wave of a hand.
Nostrils flared, you take in the mix of scents from the potions lathered and rinsed from your hair and body. This new clothing feels soft, and smells of springtime forests. The weave of the cloth on this shirt is so small it is almost impossible to see. The breeches are blue, and like Lizzie's and her friends', reach down to the floor. Less comfortable are the stockings, it feels odd to have them stop just above the ankles, but the shoes feel like you are walking on air.
You leave to rejoin the others, with only one request of them.