Sample Sunday ~ July 3

It's obvious that Meredith and Simon, the Healer, should not be mucking about in Mark's alchemy lab with Paddy Puffingtowne. And it probably is illegal!!

“That’s preposterous!” Merry leaned back and crossed her arms over her stomach. “I don’t care who he’s sleeping with, Paddy, pardon my French. I still love him as a Brother, just I still love Simon and Lucio. After everything I have brought upon his head, surely he doesn’t expect me to hold him at fault for having sought someone else’s attentions. Even if it is Elizabeth. I am not as petty as he might think. I am a Poor Knight of Solomon’s Temple just as much as any of my Brothers and I don’t think he can afford to turn down my help. Not if the picture you paint is accurate.”
“Now, now, lassie, ye dunna understand,” Paddy tried to calm her down a bit. “It’s not wot ye think atoll. ’e ’as ’is reasons fur not wantin’ ye thair and they air not somethin’ thot Paddy is at liberty t’ divulge. Trust me, lassie. Ye’d best respect ’is wishes in this matter. If ye truly love th’ king as ye say ye do, then ye’ll ’ave t’ trust ’im.”
“You’ll have to do better than that, Paddy Puffingtowne,” Merry said stubbornly. “I’ll not be left out of the Order’s business and I have a mind of my own.”
“Aye, thot ye do,” Paddy agreed whole-heartedly. “Ye’ve ’ardly troied th’ leaf. ’ave a smoke and tell me wot ye think.”
Merry stuck the pipe between her lips and took a deep draw on the stem. The ember glowed in the bowl and blue smoke went up to the ceiling. She coughed once and then took another puff. Simon reached past her and took the pipe Paddy had made for him. He turned up the wine, finishing off the last of the bottle before taking a draw off the pipe. His eyes widened and then he coughed worse than Merry.
Merry stopped coughing long enough to sputter “This is bound to be illegal, Paddy.” She looked at the clurichaun in consternation, took a long draw and then giggled.
“It takes yer moind off yer tribbles fur a whoile and a bit as Sam wud say, but it’s ’armless. I told ye thot ye wud loike it.”
Simon puffed on the pipe in fascination. Everything in the room seemed to turn blue in front of his eyes and some of the equipment on the table began to move about, dancing it seemed on long, gangly legs. He blinked rapidly and then drank the down the last of the wine in the glass.
“Dragon’s Blood,” he said again softly. “Dragon’s Blood.”
“What about Dragon’s Blood?” Merry turned to look at him with her pipe still clutched between her perfect teeth.
“Brother Ramsay told me that the Mad Arab was trying to make Dragon’s Blood,” Simon told her and continued to watch as the tripod danced across the counter with a brass bowl following after it. The Erlenmeyer flask began to melt into a puddle. He reached out one finger cautiously to touch the glass. It appeared to cling to his finger in a long stringer of melted glass, but did not burn him. He held his finger up and looked at the crystal filament hanging from it.
“Stop thot!” Paddy laughed and admonished the Healer. He scooted across the counter and took the glass filament from Simon’s finger and laid it on the counter. “Ye’ve ruined th’ gloss now and Andy will be mad as an auld wet hen when ’e comes ’ome and foinds ’is equipment in a shambles.”
Merry turned to look at the melted flask and the dancing tripod.
“How did you do that, Brother?” she asked and took some of the glass up on her own finger.
“Ye’re goin’ t’ cut yerself,” Paddy warned her a bit too late as the thin glass snapped and poked her finger at the same time. A drop of blood emerged, bright red. “I shudna give ye th’ blue,” he said and slapped one hand against his forehead. “I didna realoize thot twud be so powerful in th’ overwarld.”
Merry watched the single drop of blood on her finger as it grew and then dripped slowly onto the table.
Simon focused on it and the blood expanded, forming itself into the shape of a tiny red dragon with black wings. It reared its head and spouted a tiny flash of fire before taking flight about the room.
“Stop it. Stop it.” Paddy reached to take the pipes from them. “Holy mackerel!” he said as he slid from the counter and went chasing after the miniature beast.
Merry giggled and laughed and pressed her hands over her mouth like a little girl.
Simon tried to suppress a laugh, wheezed and coughed and burst out laughing. A bright blue butterfly emerged from his mouth and fluttered about the room.
“Oll right. Thot does it!” Paddy came to take the Healer’s arm. “I’m takin’ ye up t’ yer woife.”
“Oh, noooo.” Simon shook his head. “Thot wudna do atoll.”