Rain fills the air with sounds. The rustle and patter of the drops and the whispering of leaves caused by the light breeze passing through the trees was very peaceful and relaxing. Harold Moser stood at the end of the small gravel driveway used for parking the horses and buggies of visitors to Leila's house and looked around, seeing and listening, before turning left to start the trip to Mrs. Blandford's house. He was without his hat, having left it behind at Leila's house after being spirited away by Joe Russell to Heal their cow of mastitis, and he had been denied access by his daughter Marcie upon his return. Leila was apparently with a patient and couldn't be disturbed for confidentiality reasons, but Marcie had shown him the appointment book, which stated that Mrs. Blandford was having problems with blight on her tomatoes and that Miss Keystone's dog had cataracts that needed to be dealt with.
Rain fills the air with smells. Magwitch in the latter half of May offered green everywhere he looked, and the smells of the soil, of plants growing, and of lilacs offered themselves to his nose. He walked away from the main north-south street and started a two-block walk eastward. The soothing patter of the rain on his Ward that kept him dry, combined with a comfortably full belly from the generous brunch that the Russells had given him, caused his mind to start wandering almost immediately.
Rain fills the mind with memories. He had too many memories for a man about to turn 55 in September. A wet, muddy battlefield on the plains before Carcosa wanted to be remembered, but no, no. Not that memory. The therapist had said to override the negative memories with positive ones. The regular tapping of his staff on the road brought to mind memories of how he had acquired it at the start of his fourth year in Mage School on his eighteenth birthday. It was a story that he'd shared with only a few people, Leila among them.
Karaoke bars, where people in various stages of inebriation get up on a stage to sing popular songs, usually badly, had been an entertainment staple in the Capital for years. Some luminary had gotten the bright idea of doing the same thing, but for wrestling. Even after she'd come down from whatever substance she'd been consuming at the time, it had still seemed like a good idea simply because it was unique. Harold had never been one to make a big deal of his birthday, which was in early September and coincided with the start of school. He was going to keep it quiet, but his friends knew, and since 18 was the legal drinking age in the Kingdom, they had dragged him out to a new bar near the Magic School and managed to talk their way past the bouncers at the door. They had passed the area where the prizes were on display, and the ash staff with its carvings had caught his eye. They had been shown to a table in the second tier around the ring and had ordered a pitcher of a locally-brewed beer. Harold had discovered the hard way that he and alcohol were meant to be only casual friends, so he had nursed his mug carefully, while noshing on the various edibles they had ordered and watching the action in the ring.
His reverie was interrupted when a horse and buggy with two people in it turned the corner ahead of him and came towards him at nearly a gallop. The hiss and wash of the rain were drowned out by the rapidly-increasing volume of the clopping of hooves on the compacted gravel road and the rattling of the buggy. The man was driving and the woman looked like she was hanging on for dear life. He had to hastily hop onto someone's lawn as they raced by, and he wasn't able to get a good look at their faces. "What's the emergency?" he asked himself.
"Sorry!" the woman called back over her shoulder. He waved at them, turned, and continued to the end of the second block, where he turned right.
Two tables to their right had had a hen party of five female Mages from the sixth and seventh year, who were vaguely familiar to Harold and his group of three other guys, who were just starting their fourth. That their noise could be heard over the general din of the place indicated that they had been having a good time. When the call for fresh meat for the large guy in the ring had been spelled out on a big sign on the far wall, one of them had been pushed to her feet and herded to the ring. People from the Northlands tend to be on the large side, with blonde hair and blue eyes, and she was no exception. Dana Magnussen also had had curves in all of the right places and had vamped it up for the audience and her opponent. When the bell had rung, she had become all business and proceeded to throw him around like a sack of potatoes, as he had done with his previous opponents.
"I can see why she's the Captain of the Women's Wrestling Team," Harold had remarked, watching her moves as closely as possible.
"She's every guy's wet dream," Mark had replied.
"Seeing how she's beating up that guy, not for me," Alan had shuddered. Five minutes after it had started, Dana's opponent had been pinned and then dragged from the ring. Harold could see that most of her moves were from the non-lethal version of the basic hand-to-hand combat system that had been designed to make such encounters short. Unlike most of the others, he had taken a special interest in it and in the quarterstaff training, and had gotten extra training with a local Army unit whose barracks had been (and still were) across the Grand Park from the Magic School. Three opponents later, she had been hardly breaking a sweat, and his friends had suddenly propelled him to the ringside, signed the injury waiver, and shoved him into the ring.
She clearly hadn't recognized him, the number of Mages in the room had masked his status, and his show of looking nervous and uncertain was successful in getting her off her guard. When she had grinned and charged to body-slam him, he had done a classic grab, pivot, and toss so that she had landed hard on her back and had the wind knocked out of her. A quick shoulder pin and three-count secured the win. "I want the staff, please," he had told the ref in the absolute silence of the large room. "Gotta run now before she gets up!" he had added hastily.
"Not so fast, bub," Dana had growled, clamping a vise-like grip on his left ankle. "Best two out of three." The crowd had erupted and the fight was on. Twenty minutes later, they both had been on the mat, battered and bruised and unable to stand, so it had been declared a draw. Best Show of the Night had earned him the staff, which he had used to hobble to the School with Mark, Brett, and Alan for a visit to the Infirmary, where Dana and her friends had shown up shortly afterwards. Once they had been Healed, she had claimed him, taken him back to her small apartment, and he had finally gotten to see that her body had been everything that he had imagined, and then some.
Despite the exhaustion, aches, and pains they had felt after having beaten each other up in the ring, it was less than five minutes after the door had been closed and locked before they were naked and exploring each other's bodies. It had then taken less than a minute of frantic pounding in her hot, wet pussy before she had clamped down hard and he had filled her with cum, and after the necessary Cleaning, they had fallen asleep. He had woken up at about 2:00 in the morning to find her expertly sucking and licking his rapidly hardening cock. Having brought life to the dead, she had mounted her prize and ridden it up and down while he had licked and sucked on her dangling, D-sized breasts.
Then he had cheated by slipping some sparks into her pink, sensitive nipples, short-circuiting the orgasm that she'd been carefully nurturing, making her groan and shudder as it ripped through her. After it had passed, she had fixed him with the evil eye and had returned the favour, pouring sparks into his cock from all around it, driving him over the edge and making him pump more squirts of hot cum deep inside her. Despite it all, he had woken up with morning wood, and by the time he had been able to make the Walk of Shame back home to his dorm room, his aching loins had been completely emptied of sperm. They had maintained a "friendship with benefits" until she had graduated, and they hadn't seen each other again until he had been pushed into the recruitment office for the Carcosa Campaign and had found that she was one of the unit's Engineer Mages. As his mind returned to the present, he realized that the memories had been enough to rejuvenate his cock and he hastily rearranged his pants to try to hide the bulge that had appeared in them. He wished once again that he had the stamina of his youth.
At the end of this block, he crossed the street to approach an attractive two-storey yellow house with light blue trim that was set back from the corner about thirty feet. Carefully-tended flowerbeds surrounded the house and a nicely-trimmed waist-high hedge that marked the property's boundaries was covered in sweet-smelling white flowers. A white wooden gate admitted Harold to the lawn, which was shaded by a large beech tree at the corner. There was wood all around him, but not in his pants now.
"Nice place," he said to himself, looking around. He had never been here before and had followed directions in the notes. The door was solid and had no windows in or beside it, which made for good security but hard to tell if anyone was behind it, which is probably part of the security, he mused with a half-smile as he walked up the two steps to the porch. The polished brass knocker had a daisy-like flower on it and made a satisfying bang when he used it. After waiting a couple of minutes with no response, he returned to the street and walked around the corner to the back of the house, where he saw a figure in a dark blue raincoat, rain hat, and matching boots stooped over near the fence, looking at a bed in the garden, which seemed to take up most of the space in the large back yard. A paunchy older man wearing a dark overcoat and holding a black umbrella and a heavyset older woman in a dark green coat and holding a pale green umbrella were watching her with interest. None of them seemed to have noticed his arrival.
Rain fills the mind with memories. Kim Blandford was standing here in the rain in front of a bed of several herbs, which were grouped here because of their restorative properties for older men who found themselves unable to rise when an occasion demanded it. Her next-door neighbour Charles Bigelow and his wife Diana were here, even in the rain, to check them out. It was her late husband Greg, who was a landscaper, who had laid out the design for the garden and, over a period of years when she was busy trying to persuade the Town Council to do things her way (because she was right), installed the pathway and dug out the chunks of lawn to create new beds. He was the one who had planted these herbs and said that she could make a little extra money on the side preparing and selling them. She did not want to look at the stainless-steel chair with the fancy scrollwork in its place on the left side of the door where she had found him sitting in the rain, where he had been looking at his handiwork until suddenly, he was not. They were so preoccupied that they did not notice the man in traveling clothes, high black boots, and a staff, who was standing on the other side of the hedge.
"Hello, I'm Harold Moser, Senior Healer of the Order of St. Thrimble," he introduced himself loudly. Startled, Kim jumped up and whirled to face him in a defensive posture, while the other two quickly looked up, clearly taken by surprise. He smiled and waved from his safe position on the other side of the fragrant hedge. "Sorry to startle you! I understand that there are some tomato plants that need a little help?"
