Story: The Glove, XIV

( Part XIII , XV )

Steffan was munching on a scone - yes, pronounced like 'bone'! - in the aftermath of the gun incident at the Canterbury church, as a strange woman approached him and sat opposite him in the tea rooms. If he hadn't had had a mouth goofily full of scone, he would presumably have responded to her question about his wellbeing in an intelligent and insightful way. He might indeed have made a curious remark about who the 'we' she was returning to might be. As it was, he surprisedly made a snorting noise, and turned a little red in the face. As you might surmise, he was not the most gentile of eaters, and the mouthful was not a petite one.

"It seems you have bitten off more than you can chew, literally and figuratively." His table mate remarked. "If there is anything wrong with you, it's definitely not your appetite, although Alison's scones are highly irresistible.

Steffan was by now well prepared and free of scone-like material. "I'm perfectly fine, thank you, whoever you might be." He added, for detail, "I mean 'you' in both the singular and the plural, of course."

"Articulate, aren't we?"

"Years of piper training can do that to a person." Steffan was reticent. If the woman was involved with the gunplay at the church then she might be very dangerous indeed.

"I'm Alison's niece. She made those scones. The ones you were trying to inhale. You really should use less butter. 'We' are a far more complicated thing to explain." She looked a little embarrassed. "'We' are a group who want to restore a peaceful balance to the world, a balance where the two halves of our society aren't forced apart in such a silly way."

"Forced apart? Nothing is forced apart! Were those gunshots part of some peaceful balance?"

"No, they were fired by a madman, a person who used to be not quite so mad." Tears glistened in the eyes of his new friend. "He is being taken care of now, somehow." Then, before Steffan could ask another question, the lady continued. "Do you really think it's possible that a world could be split into two such different cultures, and stay that way without collapsing? Without slowly remerging in some way?"

Steffan frowned, thoughtfully. "I had never thought about it. It does seem rather unlikely, doesn't it?"

"Yes, very unlikely." The lady smiled sadly. "My name's Megan, and unless I'm very much mistaken, you're Steffan, yes? The rogue piper?"

"Rogue piper?!"

"Yes, the rogue piper. We thought you might like to hear a story. Would you come with me?"

Not a moment passed. Steffan looked her in the eye, and answered the way any hero in a story would.

To be continued...