Prologue,
or something like that, where Kayn is cursed by his own mother and Irwin leaves his home heroically.
...besides, the witch had a house - an old flea-pit, almost mouldered away; it stood on a narrow, quiet street of a town, forgotten by all gods. Wrought gate rusted through, one of its wings was taken off the hinges and leaned against the stone pillar; the other one swung and creaked in the windy weather.
The witch was a hundred years old, if not more, but she felt too proud to allow herself to be seen by mere passers-by as a crooked old hag with greasy grey hair and warts on her nose, - that's why other witches thought her to be conceited. But, to tell the truth, she couldn't care less for their opinion, especially when she appeared in the town's park on Sunday evening: tall and stately, with the bearing of a queen, looking at the townspeople with contempt, as though they were frogs or spiders, - and her eyes seemed like sharp grey pieces of ice. When she stalked along the alley, dressed in all black, just a string of pearls gleams around her neck, - like a haughty jackdaw, - nobody dared to frown up on her. Even stupid urchins, who like to boast with their courage in front each other, - even they feared to tease her, because, looking in her eyes, they understood quite well that the grand lady wouldn't hesitate to turn them into warty little toads.
But she has always been a very decent witch, a law-abiding one. Even when she was young, she didn't dance naked under the full moon, on the top of the hill; even in her prime, she didn't steal princesses out of their cradle, to enjoy the torments of miserable parents. Sometimes, when her clients offered her good money for her services - or in the moment of special inspiration - she could brew a potion, which could invoke an awful snowstorm in the middle of hot summer, or prepare a decoction to calm down a hurricane, - but it didn't happen very often. She preferred to sit in the attic and leaf through dusty ancient folios, and to dream that one day she will become a really powerful witch, - and this way, her youth passed, her life was passing, day dy day, year by year.
The witch also had a garden - overgrown with goose-foot, absinth and nettle...
or something like that, where Kayn is cursed by his own mother and Irwin leaves his home heroically.
...besides, the witch had a house - an old flea-pit, almost mouldered away; it stood on a narrow, quiet street of a town, forgotten by all gods. Wrought gate rusted through, one of its wings was taken off the hinges and leaned against the stone pillar; the other one swung and creaked in the windy weather.
The witch was a hundred years old, if not more, but she felt too proud to allow herself to be seen by mere passers-by as a crooked old hag with greasy grey hair and warts on her nose, - that's why other witches thought her to be conceited. But, to tell the truth, she couldn't care less for their opinion, especially when she appeared in the town's park on Sunday evening: tall and stately, with the bearing of a queen, looking at the townspeople with contempt, as though they were frogs or spiders, - and her eyes seemed like sharp grey pieces of ice. When she stalked along the alley, dressed in all black, just a string of pearls gleams around her neck, - like a haughty jackdaw, - nobody dared to frown up on her. Even stupid urchins, who like to boast with their courage in front each other, - even they feared to tease her, because, looking in her eyes, they understood quite well that the grand lady wouldn't hesitate to turn them into warty little toads.
But she has always been a very decent witch, a law-abiding one. Even when she was young, she didn't dance naked under the full moon, on the top of the hill; even in her prime, she didn't steal princesses out of their cradle, to enjoy the torments of miserable parents. Sometimes, when her clients offered her good money for her services - or in the moment of special inspiration - she could brew a potion, which could invoke an awful snowstorm in the middle of hot summer, or prepare a decoction to calm down a hurricane, - but it didn't happen very often. She preferred to sit in the attic and leaf through dusty ancient folios, and to dream that one day she will become a really powerful witch, - and this way, her youth passed, her life was passing, day dy day, year by year.
The witch also had a garden - overgrown with goose-foot, absinth and nettle...
