Hen gently took hold of Delph's hand in the pocket realm, and pulled it free of Hekse Strahl's journal. 

"A book of self-penned poetry," said Hen, "I would permit you to read it but... my ramblings are better left in the privacy of another realm, haha! I haven't much of a mind for writing, you see, it's more of a hobby to pass the days and-"

Lyre touched a hand to her arm. "That's enough, love."

"And there are pockets like that in the water?" asked Delph, suddenly eyeing the lake with newfound interest.

"Not that we could find," said Lyre, "But strangers to this land are often blessed with the gift of finding them. Would you like to try it for yourself?"

Delph nodded, neatly slipping his feet from Aves' borrowed shoes and removing his stockings. He hid his naked toes deep in the long grass, shielding them from view of the ladies, and ensuring his robe was tightly secured at his waist, he gingerly walked towards the water.

"Do you need a push?" asked Lyre.

"Take your time so as not to fall," countered Hen, "Mistress Lyre has already tested the waters and determined them safe. Though now I fear she is likely to catch a chill..."

Fetching the spare apron from her pocket realm, Hen tenderly patted dry the droplets on Lyre's skin. "Your underthings are soaked," she whispered, "You will get sick if we cannot find a change of clothes."

"Will you get sick too then?" asked Lyre, "Or was I unable to soak your underthings in the way you soaked mine..?"

"You know full well I spoke of the water," blushed Hen, "Save your seduction for when we no longer have a witch to worry over."

"As you wish," said Lyre, returning to the matter at hand, "I will send a doll in search of dry clothing while we help Master Strahl. Though until then, I'll need to rely on your warmth to keep me from freezing."

Hen graciously allowed the shivering maiden to nestle close to her side, and cast a sly arm around her waist. Lyre was as content as she could be with Hen remaining fully dressed. When the time came to change her clothes, she hoped that Hen could be persuaded to assist her.

Delph had happily splashed into the water, fondly remembering the occasion he taught his brother to swim in the lake at home. Fiepet declared it a travesty that the younger brother could swim while the elder could not; and despite the awkwardness of his body in the water, had been determined that he should learn how to stay afloat.

Stirring his fingers beneath the surface, Delph smiled at the memory, and mindlessly uttered the words and phrases stuck in his head for the past ten years. Akin to a song where the melody remained forgotten, the lyrics lived on the tip of his tongue.

"Oh!" he cried, sensing some resistance against his fingertips, "Mistress Hen! Mistress Lyre! I think I have found something!"

The two women rushed towards him, waist deep, and with no thought for their gowns; they had never expected that the witch would find success so quickly. Although 'success' might have oversold the very small progress that Delph had made.

"It feels thicker here!" he said, "See?"

In removing his hand from the water, the effects he'd created disappeared. Both Lyre and Hen plunged their hands into the vacated space, but neither could discern any change, sharing a look of disappointment before Delph Strahl tried fruitlessly again.

"I swear it!" he said, "There was something there but a moment ago. Perhaps it swam away?"

"You mean it was a fish?!" demanded Lyre.

"No!" said Delph, "It was just as it was in the air. I saw nothing, and yet I felt it. Something there where it ought not to be."

"What were you doing when it happened?" asked Hen, "Was there a particular way you stood, or a movement you made with your hand?"

Delph shook his head, stretching his fingers in all directions as he altered his stance on the lake bed.

"A word perhaps?" suggested Lyre.

"Perhaps..." Delph replied, "Are words that powerful here?"

"Of course! Look around you at the crowds you've gathered, merely with a handful of words to the Traveling Men."

Delph blushed deeply with shame.

"Never mind that," said Hen, a stern glare directed at Lyre, "Words that may have meant nothing in Grunterbad can find new meaning in the Madning Isle. The air is filled with magic, and even the wind listens and speaks to those that know exactly what to say. Think of this world as though it lives and breathes; when we talk it may answer."

"Hello, water," ventured Delph, "My name is Delphin Strahl. Of Strahl's Printworks in Grunterbad."

Lyre's face twitched, fighting the urge to laugh as Delph offered his hand to the lake. Playing back and forth with his fingers, a string of words fell carelessly from his lips.

"There!" he said, amazed once more that the water turned to treacle at his touch, "Can you see it this time?! My finger is stuck, like there's something there! Should I try and open it?"

Lyre peered closer, long loose strands of her hair falling across her face and into the lake. Hen held them back and tried to make out what she'd seen that had caught her attention. It looked as though Delph's hand was simply held in place, but the finger was unnaturally still; if he'd truly found a seam, then there was no telling what lay beyond it.

"Open it," ordered Lyre.

"Or... maybe we should wait?" suggested Hen, lowering her voice to whisper in Lyre's ear, "What if the entire lake gets sucked into Grunterbad by mistake..?!"

"You don't want to travel to another world?" Lyre asked her, "Besides, it's unlikely he'd stumble upon a way home so quickly, or with so little effort."

Hen remembered the haggard state her master often appeared in after his experiments with the velvet water. The toll it took on his mind and body as he worked tirelessly, tearing open portals and expanding his search within them. Delphin Strahl had found one with the ease of picking up a pebble from the ground. It was unlikely though, that it would lead to somewhere of importance.

"Open it a little," said Hen, "And take care as you do. Remember, in my pocket realm there were things you did not know to expect."

Delph nodded, his heart beating excitedly as he drew his nail across the rift in the water. He and Fiepet had read a book once about a man who looked for gold in a river; each day he would return and sift the silt for signs of shimmering yellow. As the story continued, so too did the man's greed. He feared the loss of any speck that failed to grace his pan, and diverted the river to his home. In time the water dried up and the angered villagers came to take his gold in payment.

"I will not succumb to greed!" Delph told them cryptically, assured that lost treasures were likely to await him in the water.

"Good..?" said Lyre, an eyebrow raised.

The words he spoke were too quiet for all but the water to hear. Along the ridge, a tear about a handsbreadth began to form; the moderate waters of the lake giving way to a dark and icy current from the other side.

"Ah! It's cold!" cried Delph, pushing his fingers through the tear and into the water beyond. "And I cannot feel a thing on the other side. Are you sure this isn't where winter lies dormant? I fear my hand is growing numb."

Lyre and Hen could feel it too; their teeth a-chatter as the water seeped out towards them through the rift. 

"You're a wonder!" marveled Hen.

"But I think I did it wrong," protested Delph, "There's nothing there but the cold. No coins or jewellery. Not even a book of poetry."

"Can you close it?" asked Lyre, "Or change its size? Are you able to control it now it's been made?"

"Made?" queried Delph, "Didn't I just find what was already there?"

"Mistress Lyre misspoke," Hen explained without missing a beat, "But just as she asked, this realm you've found, are you able to alter its door? You're doing so wonderfully, might I add; but I'm curious to see how much more a stranger to this land is capable of." 

Delph was feeling incredibly important; and wondered if Fiepet too had found he possessed such skills. Little did he know that only the Maddening Witch, despite the loss of his memories, would be able to summon the velvet water on his first try. Men had gone mad spending a lifetime trying to learn as much.

Drawing his fingers back and forth, he felt as the tear began to grow and shrink at his will; if not for the sting of the icy water, he might have been tempted to make it even bigger.

"Ah! Ow!" he cried, withdrawing his hand and warming it in the sunlight, "I forget sometimes what the cold does to old wounds. My wrist... it is painful."

While Lyre explored the portal Delph had left open, Hen removed the scarf from about her curls and wrapped it gently around Delph's scars. Circling his wrist with the warmth of her fingers, she held it tenderly; her brows furrowing in genuine concern.

So this is the velvet water, thought Lyre, How many deaths have been caused by this magic..?

Mistress Hen's sneeze soon drew her attention.

"Can you close it completely?" asked Lyre, "Then we'll return to the shore for a short while." It would not do to have Delph expend his energy so carelessly; nor was she happy that Mistress Hen was in danger of falling ill.

Gritting his teeth, Delph pushed his aching hand back towards the cold water, and managed to close the portal.

"Wonderful!" cried Hen, throwing her arms around him in celebration of all he'd achieved in so short a time. The witch did not disappoint.

Delph's pleased-with-himself grin was beginning to irritate Lyre. It didn't matter how pretty he was, there was no need for Mistress Hen to keep touching him so much. With the experiment determined a success, the trio walked out of the lake at Lyre's urging, and found a place to sit together on the grass.

From their resting place they could make out some movement at the far side of the lake, closest to the road. An important person had clearly arrived, but whether the Warlock or another, they were too far away to make any kind of guess.  

It was no wonder the visitor had drawn so much attention from the gathered crowds; the well-reknowned yet seldom seen Hermit of Innsbad Cave had left his seclusion, and graced the people with his presence. Had anyone doubted the return of the Maddening Witch, the elder's public appearance at Velmund Drum was sure to convince them.

Upon his back, he carried a large earthenware flagon, propped in place by two disciples that followed close behind. As the elder strode buoyantly along the road to the lake, his followers were struggling to keep up, and to keep the flagon from slipping to the ground. 

"Make way for the Hermit of Innsbad Cave!" cried one of his exhausted followers.

"Please," begged the other beneath his breath, "The master has walked non-stop from Innsbad since the Traveling Men broke news of the witch. And this damn liquor weighs a ton."

"Complaining again are you Olm?" asked the Hermit, "Have you forgotten that I am the one who has carried it?"

"Yes Master," Olm reluctantly admitted. 

"Very good! Then there shall be the spot where we prepare ourselves. Ease, Olm, hurry and take this from me; we are just in time to meet the man of the hour."

Ease and Olm fetched down the flagon, as their elderly master skipped ahead to a large flat table-top stone. The man of the hour was not far behind them at all, and the Hermit had barely a moment to survey his surroundings before the sound of the Warlock's hooves was heard in the distance.

"Can you sense that, Olm?" the Hermit asked, his eyes drawn towards the water at the far side of the lake.

"I sense nothing but another lecture on how we're not to swim with the populous," sighed Olm.

"You haven't been listening to the water as it falls from the stalagtites, have you? You neglect your studies Olm!"

"But Master," interjected Ease, "You know the Warlock has forbidden the practice of water magic. We can but study in the school of darkness."

The Hermit rolled his eyes. "It was only a matter of time for the balance of law to shift in favor of permittance. Now that the witch is found, the Warlock will do away with such nonsense. Had Olm continued in his instruction, he would sense it too."

"What, Master?" asked Ease.

"An echo," said the Hermit, "Someone here has been speaking to the water."