Book 1: Chapter 1
Tris Meek was the precise example of someone who most certainly did not exemplify her surname. This was partly because of the mix of troll and pixie blood that coursed through her human veins and partly because a childhood spent surrounded by burly brothers with more brawn than brain had forced her to quickly adapt. That adaptation meant developing a sharp wit, lightning-fast reflexes, a keen capacity to spin mistruths, and an angry stare that could strip paint off a wall.
All of this was in spite of standing just under five feet tall and possessing the kind of facial features that made old crones smile toothless smiles and raise their thumb and index fingers in anticipation of a good old cheek pinch. She was beautiful in a cutesy way that made strangers incline their heads to one side and smile, as though she were a puppy or a rosy-cheeked infant.
Big brown eyes, curly hair, dimpled cheeks, and a button nose conspired to create a visage that was so terrifyingly cute it made people stop and smile whatever their present disposition or duty. It also prompted a lot of oohs and aahs and even the odd pat on the head. On occasion a passerby might even fish out half a copper and slip it into her hand as though she was a carnival attraction.
All of this was in spite of Tris’s constant attempts to distance herself from her looks by wearing drab black clothing and to straighten her hair each morning and ring her eyes with dark paint. In fact, despite her best efforts, within an hour or so of waking up, her hair had usually sprung back into curls and the makeup she’d applied mysteriously disappeared, leaving her cherub-like face to astound passersby with its profound cuteness.
That was the trouble with being the offspring of a marriage betwixt pixie and troll, particularly when you inherited your mother’s physical features. No matter how much she tried, Tris Meek was destined to be the cutest little button-nosed so-and-so in all of Elderwood.
So, when the opportunity arose to leave the town of her birth and set out on a grand adventure, Tris took it with both hands. The adventure in question, however, came in the form of a bequeathment from an elderly uncle on her mother’s side; a wizard named Dolgren who had owned and operated a magical shop in the distant township of Trebble which sat at the lower tip of the southern continent.
It was that bequeathment that had led her to the strange little town and the even stranger ramshackle tavern which stood before her. Tris pulled a scrap parchment from her pocket, unfolded it, and read the message it contained for the fiftieth time.
Dearest Tris,
Despite your looks I have always found you to be a level-headed child with a gift for subterfuge and the solving of problems. Those are both qualities that will serve you well as you take ownership of The Cracked Cauldron.
Once you reach Trebble, seek out The Crimson Folly and ask for Maven. She is an old friend and a kind soul. Like you, her personality belies her outward appearance.
Maven will guide you to the Cauldron and will provide a meal and a place to stay until the shop is back in working order.
On entering the premises, you will be met by a demon named Balthraxis. He is a cantankerous individual, endlessly tiring, endlessly duplicitous. He will attempt at every possible occasion to be freed from his service. Under no circumstances permit the demon to be freed, else the entire world will be in mortal peril.
Also, if he ever states a desire to read you his poetry, REFUSE!
Despite his infernal faults, Balthraxis knows the shop back to front and will be an invaluable source of information in the days ahead.
DO NOT open the obsidian lockbox!
DO NOT listen to the books in the Midnight Library, because they all lie!
DO NOT look at my ocularus browsing history. Simply delete it!
I have left you a little coin to get started but the truth is you will have your work ahead of you, Tris. The Cauldron is not what it once was and war had taken a great toll on these lands as you know.
Work hard, rely on Maven and, to a lesser extent, Balthraxis, employ your sharp mind and iron will and you will succeed.
Oh, and if possible, I would be most grateful if you could find out who banished me from Elandria and return me to that realm.
Yours,
Dolgren Meek.
Tris folded the paper and put it away. She took a deep breath and looked up at the crooked sign hanging outside the door of the tavern.
A new life. A new vocation.
A chance to make her own way.
She stepped forward and opened the door, permitting a waft of smoky warmth to flow out along with the scent of ale and roasting meat accompanied by snatches of conversation.
