Cackle closed the door behind him and took a deep breath.
It was good that Phoebe hadn't asked too much about Mildred, the barkeeper. The questions had been just unspecific enough to avoid saying the whole truth.
And that truth was that Mildred was actually a member of a cult who had once worshipped him. It was awkward, of course, but it might prove to be a true boon to have her knowledge and advice. I'll just have to deal with the discomfort. And hope I don't disappoint her too much.
From what he'd gleaned of her mind, she was the latest of a long line of cultists who'd waited near the cave he'd been hiding in, waiting for him to come out. She was getting old enough to have already started her granddaughter, Millie, on prepping her for initiation into the cult as she knew it. Listening to her thoughts had been a bewildering experience, especially considering that he hadn't expected to hear more than the grumbles of a put-upon barkeeper and maybe glean a few pieces of information about local towns, roads, and cities.
Of course, the fact that all of this had been hidden from Phoebe didn't make what he'd told her untrue. To his eyes, a woman of Mildred's age was just old enough to properly have a real conversation with. It was always easier to talk with someone who had similarly felt the passing of time, even if only a little bit. And who knows where the night might take the two of them? As long as she didn't feel obligated to it, he'd be happy to consider having a little fun.
Cackle sat down on the bed, admiring the quality of the blanket. It was woven from some sort of plant fiber, and featured a simple pattern of interlocking diamonds. It was very tightly woven, and had a generously soft nape. Cackle ran a hand across it, appreciating the way every loose and frayed thread that made up the nape made the blanket feel softer. He pulled back the blanket and admired the mattress. It stank of secrets and the many things that happen in a bed, but nothing too foul. And it was a woolen sack stuffed with down and hay, mixed lightly with little cloth bags of ground limestone to ward off bugs and vermin. Just enough to dissuade rats from nesting in it, but not enough to irritate a person's skin unless they laid in it for days on end. Cackle doubted Phoebe's room was so well-appointed.
He sighed to himself, admitting inwardly that he was mostly putting off ringing the bell. He steeled himself and walked to the small table next to the head of the bed. On it was a silver bell with a wooden handle, just big enough to be held in a pair of fingers. Cackle picked it up and swung it twice, letting out a gentle ring that smelled of magical enhancement.
Surprised, Cackle turned the bell about, looking it over. After a moment, he spied a ring of runes etched into the inside lip of the silver bell, a gentle and fading light emanating from them. From what he could tell, the enchantment drew on the magical energy of a small crystal hidden somewhere in the bell, and did little more than make certain that the last person to fill the crystal with energy could hear the bell from a considerable distance.
Satisfied, Cackle set down the bell. Just as soon as the small silver trinket rested against the wood of the table, a knock sounded the door to the room. Cackle strode over to it and opened it, revealing Mildred. She wore an expression of guarded optimism.
Cackle stood aside, gesturing for Mildred to come on inside. She walked through the door, allowing Cackle to close it behind her.
"I never did catch yer name, did I?" Her voice was casual, but Cackle heard her thoughts, and they were swimming with the conflict of a stubborn hope being quashed by repeated reminders not to allow at hope to eclipse reason. But what if he really is the Madness I and my kin have been waitin' fer, waitin' all this time ta meet? I mustn't be gettin' my own hopes up, but oh, how I been waitin'!
"How long have you and your predecessors been waiting?" Cackle smiled as he saw Mildred's eyes widen, and heard her thoughts race. Could it be? Could it really be?
"Yes, Mildred. I think it can." Cackle braced himself. If he knew anything about generational cults dedicated to his reputation, he knew what was about to happen next was going to be dramatic. Would she prostrate herself? Would she try to kill him?
As it turned out, it was neither of those. Upon realizing Cackle could hear her thoughts, and was actively answering them, Mildred promptly fainted.
***
It was a fair few minutes before Mildred roused herself. In that time, Cackle had managed to get her onto the bed and place a something wet and as close to a cloth as he could manage over her forehead. She groggily reached up and wiped herself with the cloth, sitting up gingerly on the bed. She looked over to Cackle leaning against the wall in the corner. She blanched, her face draining of blood. She struggled to the edge of the bed and swung her legs off of it before laboriously kneeling on the ground. He let her, knowing it was probably more important to her to be courteous in her own way than it was to him to be comfortable.
Forgive me, Master, she thought deliberately, as if broadcasting her thoughts to him. These old bones don't be handlin' unexpected things like they use to do, yeh know.
Cackle waved a hand. "Enough," he said aloud. "We are not being watched at the moment by anyone I'm not comfortable with. You may speak with your tongue, Mildred. And don't worry about having fainted. I'm not upset."
Mildred nodded eagerly, wiping her head again with the we clothlike thing. "Thank'ee Master. That'll be quite kind o' yerself to say."
"You're welcome. Now, tell me. I don't really remember leaving anyone with instructions to await my return. I actually quite distinctly recall disappearing from a world that really wanted nothing to do with me. What brings you and yours to look for my return with such eagerness, and so close to where I had been hiding?"
"Oh, we 'n ours been spreadin' all along everywhere we can be ta be close to wherever yeh decided ta be returnin', Master. 'N pardon my sayin' so, but ain't it yer power ta be knowin' things?"
"It is. And I spent the last while trying to know as little as possible. I assume centuries have gone by since last I was about the world. I likely need not remind you how much and how widely I was disliked when I left. I'd decided enough was enough, and retreated to the Cave of Forgetting so that the burden of knowing so much every moment could abate somewhat. I return because I have finally grown bored of hiding. That said, I repeat my question. What brings you and yours to look for my return with such eagerness?"
Mildred hesitated, then shrugged to herself. "Well, I s'pose that stories 'bout yer powers'd be growin' a bit wild over th' years. Well, the short of it'd be the fact that the kings o' t'day ain't th' popular sort, 'n the Church o' Luminus is a real pain some days, but the long of it'd be that worshippin' Madnesses is strictly treasonous these days, 'n if th' stories're true, last it was allowed, yeh fought fer us to worship how we liked. 'N we want that kinda thing ta be th' case again."
Cackle nodded, careful to be respectful of her sincerity. "And what if I fail to measure up adequately to the stories? What if I lack the power to adequately fight for you and yours to worship as you please? What if I don't actually particularly enjoy being worshipped? Is that something you can live with?"
Mildred bit her lip. "If'n yer askin' me not ta be worshipin' yeh as a Madness, one o' th' Almost Gods, I'm sorry, but I'm rather set in my ways 'bout it."
Cackle waved a hand as if dismissing her concerns. "Oh, I wouldn't dream about telling you who or what to worship. I just want you to be informed about who or what you'd be worshipping. I'm not human, it's true, but it's a stretch to call most Madnesses 'almost gods'. Certainly it's a stretch to imagine me as a god, at least from my perspective. And I'm not sure there's much I can even offer a group of worshippers other than, apparently, prosecution by the powers that be."
Mildred's brow furrowed. "Ain't it true that yeh can make a bindin' contract what gives someone powers 'n long life in return fer somethin'?"
Cackle shrugged. "Well, yes, but that someone would have to be physically present, and it'd leave a sort of mark that anyone who knew what to look for could discover if they looked hard enough. Isn't that just inviting disaster these days, if worshippers of Madnesses are being hunted down and everything? That doesn't seem like something very much worth offering to me."
Mildred smiled. "Well, it's good ta know that th' stories o' yer wisdom 'n kindness're true, at least. Fer my part, I'd not mind bein' able ta watch my granddaughter grow up a lil easier, knowin' I'd get ta live through it. What can I offer yeh fer a longer life?"
Cackle stared for a moment. Then, a mad smile slowly stretched across his face. He didn't fight to hide it, knowing Mildred wouldn't want that, even if it scared her. And it was just so thrilling! To be seen, to feel he existed again! He let his human face warp under the force of the smile, stretching the corners of the mad grin past the underside of his ears just slightly, pointed teeth showing all along the way. He stretched forth a hand and spoke aloud without moving his human mouth, instead using a mouth hidden under his collar to speak.
"Mildred. Aged and devout. Active and loving. I offer a life lengthened by twenty years and a kenning that steps into the realms of the supernatural. I ask, in return, that you tell no one of my title, and release from yourself the ability to know it. Do you accept?"
Nearly without hesitating, Mildred leapt to her feet and shook Cackle's outstretched hand. "O'course, Master! Yer title'll be a secret safe with me!"
Cackle took a deep breath. With it moved the very air in the whole room, seemingly dragging the shadows towards himself. He felt the connection to Mildred solidify, as he used that connection to sever from her mind her ability to recall his title as a Madness. Mildred winced as she felt a part of her disappear, cut off possibly forever. At the same time, Cackle let his fingers flow into her flesh, turning into needles that moved with every beat of her heart, with every spark of a synapse, parts of him moving bits of her around from within. Mildred gasped in pain as Cackle reformatted her blood vessels to be clear and move blood with greater dependability. She struggled to suppress a cry of pain as he shaved her bones down in some places to shore them up in others, and failed to suppress another as he forced her heart to beat many times a second, moving her blood and the nutrients he continued pouring into her all around her body.
Cackle had a passing thought of concern for Phoebe being possibly able to overhear, but ultimately decided she'd probably misinterpret the sound and pressed forward. Mildred's low moans of pain continued to sound throughout the room, but she remained on her feet in the same position she'd been in when she shook his hand. All the while, her heart beat in overdrive and her very bones screamed in agony. Cackle finished his work and withdrew every still living part of himself that was still part of him from her body through her hand, back into his.
He pulled the hand away and allowed Mildred to collapse onto the floor, panting heavily. He leaned back against the wall and waited for her to recover.
After a short moment, Mildred's breath slowed and she groaned, slowly rising to her feet. She nearly stumbled as she realized she felt much lighter than before. Her sudden joy and gratitude was a terribly sweet scent to Cackle as she waved her hands about and looked at them carefully. She still had every wrinkle she'd had before, but she stood straighter, moved more easily, and felt much sturdier. She knelt again, showing deference to Cackle, who was suddenly very uncomfortable again.
"Thank'ee! Oh, Thank'ee! May th' road rise to meet yeh and may th' wind always be at yer back!"
She immediately stood again and practically danced out of the room.
For his part, Cackle was relieved to finally be done. That had been... draining, in a way that was difficult to describe. Relieved to have it finally over with and to have at least one node in his renewed knowledge network, he collapsed onto the bed.
He'd think about the rest in the morning. For now, he'd leave only just enough of his Mind alert to make sure Phoebe was safe. It was time to sleep, for real.