Sarrah Siruleanne

UP: Napa Valley

    I love to watch people. People watching is an art and after you done it a bit, you would be amazed at the things you notice. Wandering through Britannia, if you stop your own ventures for a bit, you will see it is teaming with life, some on two feet, some on four. So many individuals mixed together in a tangle of lifelines and missions, different paths intersecting and meandering. People so focused on their own lives I could be invisible for they do not see me wandering the streets watching them. Ah, but I notice them!

    Today I as I was lounging by the Oaken Oar shipwright’s, I happen to notice a lady walking across the bridge in my direction. The look in her eye told me she watched people too and while it looked like she was new to town, it almost seemed like she was being guided through the streets to a destination she was not yet aware of. Nor was I, but I was determined to find out! I know, I know, don’t think less of me for this one, but when gypsy wanders the streets of city the size of Britain with a purpose, I have to think something interesting might happen.

    We walked toward the East Side of town where the city thins out a bit, with more green spaces, more trees, and fewer people. For someone new to town she does not seem to be taking in many of the sights. Her path turns north and as she walks by The Chamber of Virtue, she hesitates a bit as she gazes into its cool depths but does not stop. That guiding force keeps her moving forward toward the north. The gypsy reached the edge of the lake that surrounds Lord Blackthorn’s castle and stopped for a moment winding a necklace of red beads through her fingers.

    Seeming to sigh, she turned east, her red skirt swirling around her dusty, sandal-clad feet. Green grasses dominated most of the area as I watched her stop in front of a smallish house build of rough-hewn boards on the outskirts of town. It was not the most tidy of places and seemed to have been deserted for quite awhile but she entered it like it was British’s own castle, almost as if she herself lived there. I walked around the building and looked in a broken window seeing the mess inside. The dust of many months layered the remaining furniture writing its own history on each surface. The faded tracks of a mouse, a collection of weathered leaves near a broken window, even the stale smell of rats all tell of the lonely life the house has lived of late.

    Just as I was ready to step away from the window, I heard the lady begin speaking though no one was there… or so she thought.

    "I will make it live again," she said determinedly. “First I need to find a pub that carries a fine Yew red, then on to the Hall of Records to find out who owns the place and make an offer.” Running her hand across the beat-up table in the center of the room she turned toward the door, once again she was speaking to herself. “Once this place is mine, I will focus on that old wise woman again,” she said shaking her head a bit, “this is one time I wish my future sight could tell me where to find that ancient blue dragon she told me about.” Slowly she opened the front door and I could see a very determined look on her face before I slid into the shadows of the building then walked away.

    This lady I want to meet… wise women, gypsies, ancient blue dragons… could be an interesting lady to get to know!

From the Town Cryer - The Journal of Ultima Online, Sunday, July 4th 1999