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“Let me tell you a story.”
The Bard strummed a low chord on his lute, smiling at the group of locals.
“It doesn’t take place far from here, not far at all. It happened here; in this town and inn, back when Sestra was young and new.”
“Nine women, all stern and dour, came to stay. Servants of the Bitch Queen: Umberlee. Now, I’m sure we’ve all seen her servants come and go, demanding tribute, duly given, and moving on. But these nine were like none who’d come before or since.”
“The first night the Nine arrived all bitter and grumpy, they demanded the best accommodation, the finest mead and the finest food. The villagers, fearful for the sea winds whipped up plumes of spray to salute the nines arrival, paid homage with the best down quilts, the softest pillows and finest food. The women gorged and drank, and slept contentedly and peacefully.
“Now the second day came to pass and the women left on the coast road, and the good folk of Sestra breathed a sigh of relief. But as the skies drew dark for night a great and bitter wind blew up, it howled through the town, bringing the smell of salt and seaweed. Out of that gale strode the Nine.”
“On the second night they called for food and wine, and as they ate they eyed the men and women of the village. Their drunkenness grew, and in alcoholic lechery they complained their beds had been cold. They demanded the healthiest and fittest of Sestra’s men and women were to bring them tributes of gold, silver and copper, these same fit bodies were to join them in their beds.”
“The townsfolk were outraged, and thought to complain. But as they did the wind picked up, hammering shutters and bringing with it the roar of the ocean. In fear the townsfolk did as was asked, and spread their offerings out.”
“As dawn came the next day, the Nine left and the peoples of Sestra muttered darkly of the Nine Bitches of Umberlee. They counted the coffers and comforted the shamed, hoping that the women would not return.”
“But as night fell, and the full, fat moon rose into the sky, the wind came for a third time. The scent of brine and salt taunted the town, and on that gale came the Nine.”
“What could the town do? They’d given all the gold they could; they’d offered up the innocence of their fittest; the best of their food had been eaten and the finest wines and ales drunk. The people cowered, fearing what the Nine would demand.”
“But the Nine asked for nothing. In silence, as the fearful people watched, the nine stripped bare and donned elegant and flowing robes, then without a word they left again, taking the long coast road.”
“That would be it for the tale, for the townsfolk feared the Bitches, and none would follow their strange and silent procession. None that is, but one man. Brave and foolhardy he crept after them, watching from the cliffs as the Nine walked to the sea, he saw them reach a strange and wet rock causeway that led into the vast ocean, and he watched them walk out across it.”
“Now, when the moon hangs fat and full then the sea is at its most fickle. Under that full blue light the sea will draw back its skirts, and reveal the secrets she hides below. But be wary, for the next tide will be full of shame and will hide much more than it did before.”
“The sea is fickle even for those who serve her well, for as our brave watcher watched the great wind picked up again. Great spray horses leapt besides that causeway, an oceanic cavalry charge that leapt and bucked besides the Bitches. In one great wave the causeway vanished and the sea swallowed her own.”
“Come the dawn the townsfolk came, finally free of their fear, and found the strangest sights. Nine new spurs of rock stuck up from the dark sea, each dressed in gowns of seaweed and jewelled with crab and rope, those Nine Bitches turned to stone.”
“Since then, on each new moon when the sky is as black as those Bitches hearts, they come to life again, dragging the unwary into the sea, lighting strange fires and dancing on rocks far out to sea.”
“So take care in the water, and pay good tribute to the great Bitch Queen, for Sestra is in her realm, and she hungers for your warmth against her deep, cold heart.”
The Bard strummed a low chord on his lute, smiling at the group of locals.
“It doesn’t take place far from here, not far at all. It happened here; in this town and inn, back when Sestra was young and new.”
“Nine women, all stern and dour, came to stay. Servants of the Bitch Queen: Umberlee. Now, I’m sure we’ve all seen her servants come and go, demanding tribute, duly given, and moving on. But these nine were like none who’d come before or since.”
“The first night the Nine arrived all bitter and grumpy, they demanded the best accommodation, the finest mead and the finest food. The villagers, fearful for the sea winds whipped up plumes of spray to salute the nines arrival, paid homage with the best down quilts, the softest pillows and finest food. The women gorged and drank, and slept contentedly and peacefully.
“Now the second day came to pass and the women left on the coast road, and the good folk of Sestra breathed a sigh of relief. But as the skies drew dark for night a great and bitter wind blew up, it howled through the town, bringing the smell of salt and seaweed. Out of that gale strode the Nine.”
“On the second night they called for food and wine, and as they ate they eyed the men and women of the village. Their drunkenness grew, and in alcoholic lechery they complained their beds had been cold. They demanded the healthiest and fittest of Sestra’s men and women were to bring them tributes of gold, silver and copper, these same fit bodies were to join them in their beds.”
“The townsfolk were outraged, and thought to complain. But as they did the wind picked up, hammering shutters and bringing with it the roar of the ocean. In fear the townsfolk did as was asked, and spread their offerings out.”
“As dawn came the next day, the Nine left and the peoples of Sestra muttered darkly of the Nine Bitches of Umberlee. They counted the coffers and comforted the shamed, hoping that the women would not return.”
“But as night fell, and the full, fat moon rose into the sky, the wind came for a third time. The scent of brine and salt taunted the town, and on that gale came the Nine.”
“What could the town do? They’d given all the gold they could; they’d offered up the innocence of their fittest; the best of their food had been eaten and the finest wines and ales drunk. The people cowered, fearing what the Nine would demand.”
“But the Nine asked for nothing. In silence, as the fearful people watched, the nine stripped bare and donned elegant and flowing robes, then without a word they left again, taking the long coast road.”
“That would be it for the tale, for the townsfolk feared the Bitches, and none would follow their strange and silent procession. None that is, but one man. Brave and foolhardy he crept after them, watching from the cliffs as the Nine walked to the sea, he saw them reach a strange and wet rock causeway that led into the vast ocean, and he watched them walk out across it.”
“Now, when the moon hangs fat and full then the sea is at its most fickle. Under that full blue light the sea will draw back its skirts, and reveal the secrets she hides below. But be wary, for the next tide will be full of shame and will hide much more than it did before.”
“The sea is fickle even for those who serve her well, for as our brave watcher watched the great wind picked up again. Great spray horses leapt besides that causeway, an oceanic cavalry charge that leapt and bucked besides the Bitches. In one great wave the causeway vanished and the sea swallowed her own.”
“Come the dawn the townsfolk came, finally free of their fear, and found the strangest sights. Nine new spurs of rock stuck up from the dark sea, each dressed in gowns of seaweed and jewelled with crab and rope, those Nine Bitches turned to stone.”
“Since then, on each new moon when the sky is as black as those Bitches hearts, they come to life again, dragging the unwary into the sea, lighting strange fires and dancing on rocks far out to sea.”
“So take care in the water, and pay good tribute to the great Bitch Queen, for Sestra is in her realm, and she hungers for your warmth against her deep, cold heart.”
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