1537 lines
90 KiB
Plaintext
1537 lines
90 KiB
Plaintext
To: archive site <rita@LOCUST.ETEXT.ORG>
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DDDDD ZZZZZZ //
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D D AAAA RRR GGGG OOOO NN N Z I NN N EEEE ||
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D D A A R R G O O N N N Z I N N N E || Volume 13
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-=========================================================+<OOOOOOOOO>|)
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D D AAAA RRR G GG O O N N N Z I N N N E || Number 1
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DDDDD A A R R GGGG OOOO N NN ZZZZZZ I N NN EEEE ||
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\\
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\
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========================================================================
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DargonZine Distributed: 2/6/2000
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Volume 13, Number 1 Circulation: 719
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========================================================================
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Contents
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Editorial Ornoth D.A. Liscomb
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The Julip Tree JD Kenyon Melrin 1017
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Talisman Three 1 Dafydd Cyhoeddwr Fall, 748 FE
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Friendships of Stone 5 Mark A. Murray Naia 6, 1015
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========================================================================
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DargonZine is the publication vehicle of the Dargon Project, a
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collaborative group of aspiring fantasy writers on the Internet.
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We welcome new readers and writers interested in joining the project.
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Please address all correspondence to <dargon@shore.net> or visit us
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on the World Wide Web at http://www.dargonzine.org/. Back issues
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are available from ftp.shore.net in members/dargon/. Issues and
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public discussions are posted to the Usenet newsgroup rec.mag.dargon.
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DargonZine 13-1, ISSN 1080-9910, (C) Copyright February, 2000 by
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the Dargon Project. Editor: Ornoth D.A. Liscomb <ornoth@shore.net>,
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Assistant Editor: Jon Evans <godling@mnsinc.com>. All rights reserved.
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All rights are reassigned to the individual contributors. Stories
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and artwork appearing herein may not be reproduced or redistributed
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without the explicit permission of their creators, except in the case
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of freely reproducing entire issues for further distribution.
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Reproduction of issues or any portions thereof for profit is forbidden.
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========================================================================
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Editorial
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by Ornoth D.A. Liscomb
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<ornoth@shore.net>
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Back when the Web was young, everyone had a links page, and they
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were a great way to navigate the Web. With fewer sites and no search
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engines or Web indexes, most sites maintained pages of links to other,
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related pages. The best way to find good sites was to start at a page
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you knew or had heard about and navigate successive links pages to find
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what you wanted.
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Today the Web is comprised of over a billion individual pages. As
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the Web has grown, individually-maintained links pages have given way to
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more sophisticated services. Search engines are able to index the
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Internet far faster than any human, and present users with lists of
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pertinent Web pages in seconds. Meta-search engines such as Ask Jeeves
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give the user the ability to obtain search results from several search
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engines at once. Portals and "vortals" serve as targetted gateways to
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sites dealing with specific topics. And in an updated twist on links
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pages, sites like About.com and AOL have organized communities that sift
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the Internet, ferreting out the best sites for their focus area.
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Amongst such well-organized competition, one has to ask whether
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individual links pages make any sense anymore. If you want your links
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page to be valuable, you need to spend a lot of time finding the best
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sites on the Internet, evaluating new ones that might be added. You also
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need to make sure that the sites already on the list are regularly
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updated and haven't moved, disappearred, or been abandoned. Links pages
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can still be useful ways to navigate the Internet (as the success of
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About.com demonstrates), but in order to be valuable to Web surfers they
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also require a lot of attention and maintenance. And even then, your
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page may just duplicate information that users can find more easily
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elsewhere.
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At DargonZine, we've maintained a links page for several years. It
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has always received only light use, and we haven't given it the
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attention needed to keep it up-to-date. We had links to a handful of
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great sites in four categories: electronic magazines, writing, fantasy
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and fandom, and medieval studies. However, we found that others did a
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better job of indexing those topics, and that we wanted to spend our
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energy on writing stories, not indexing the Internet. So when we looked
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at our links page, we came to the conclusion that it wasn't highly
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valued by our readers, and wasn't serving our organizational goal of
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helping aspiring writers improve.
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The following services will help you find sites of interest far
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more effectively than our old links page did. For search engines,
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Yahoo!, Alta Vista, and Google are all excellent, and for sites where
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guides compile the best links for specific communities, we suggest
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About.com (which used to be known as the Mining Company).
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We hope you understand the reasoning behind the dismantling of our
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links page. And we hope that you will agree with us that neither our
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readers nor our writers come to the DargonZine site looking for links;
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they come looking for fiction, and we can provide plenty of that!
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This issue is a great example of the fiction that brings people to
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our site. It contains another new story from JD Kenyon, who debuted in
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our previous issue, as well as the beginning of the fourth block of
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stories in Dafydd's epic "Talisman" series. It also features the
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conclusion of the "Friendships of Stone" series begun by Mark Murray
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back in September 1997.
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This issue also marks the beginning of our sixteenth year on the
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Internet. Refer to the Editorial in DargonZine 12-12 for a retrospective
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of how we got here and where we plan to go in our sixteenth year and
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beyond.
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But our immediate future holds another great issue featuring the
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continuation of "Talisman Three" as well as stories from two brand new
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writers. Look for those stories in DargonZine 13-2, which will follow
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this issue by just a couple weeks.
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========================================================================
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The Julip Tree
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by JD Kenyon
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<janine_dee@email.com>
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Melrin 1017
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Darienne stared across the room at the man who would become her
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husband in less than a sennight, and shuddered inwardly. Lord Guston
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Daeton was engaged in quiet conversation with Duke Clifton Dargon at the
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head table, reserved for the elite guests. She knew that she was the
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subject on his lips because his eyes would meet hers fleetingly each
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time he looked up, and the duke had made a point of turning his head in
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her direction. She squirmed on the bench and averted her gaze. There was
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a spicy-smelling feast spread on the table in front of her: platters of
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sliced roast pheasant and boar, bowls of steaming kale and honey-glazed
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carrots, as well as freshly baked breads and richly matured cheeses. The
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servants of the keep flitted between the tables replenishing wine and
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ale and were now serving crusty fruit tarts for dessert. Darienne lifted
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her goblet and sipped slowly, her appetite for food overwhelmed by a
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feeling of misery.
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"We all envy you." Darienne turned sharply to the young woman at
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her side who had gushed these words enthusiastically.
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"You *envy* me?" she said with a degree of skepticism as she took
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in her youthful dinner companion's pert little mouth and vapid blue
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eyes. There was a sudden lull in the conversation as the other young
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women at the table inclined their heads in her direction.
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"You're to be married to Lord Daeton, aren't you?" The woman was in
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fact no more than a girl dressed up for her evening out with Dargon's
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aristocracy -- her face flushed with naivety and her head filled with
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imagined romance.
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"Regretfully so," Darienne said bluntly -- and noticed their eyes
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widen. She knew what it sounded like. It was callous and an insult to
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someone of Daeton's stature, but she did not care if everyone in Dargon
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knew that she felt resentment. After a brief pause, the women around her
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started their twittering and snickering again. Darienne shifted sideways
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on the bench, looking for Melly, her chaperone, and stifled a sigh.
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Their small party had arrived at the keep less than a bell before,
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and instead of being shown to their rooms, her father's envoy had
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scuttled away and left her in the care of the steward. The six-day
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journey from Hawksbridge had taken its toll and Darienne had longed to
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change out of her traveling clothes, have a wash and retire to bed.
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Instead, the overbearing steward had insisted that she join the feast,
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leaving Melly to make the necessary room arrangements. Darienne had been
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compelled to follow the steward down the winding staircase from the
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guest quarters to the keep's great room. The lavishly adorned room was
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alive with chatter and laughter, with the melodic background strains of
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a jongleur entertaining Duke Dargon's diners.
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The first time she had seen Guston Daeton he was leaning heavily on
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his cane in the shadows of the great room, talking to her father's
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envoy. He had paused to look at her, and she had felt as if she was
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being inventoried by his brooding stare. She had matched his gaze, her
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lips set tight and her eyes flaring the unspoken bitterness in her
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heart. It had felt as if there were a hundred eyes in the room glancing
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over her as she had waited in the doorway, the guests suspended over
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their meals as they ogled the late intrusion. In that moment she had
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despised her father even more for having agreed to this marriage and had
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felt deeply humiliated at the thought of being paraded for all to see.
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Worse -- Daeton had made no move in her direction. Instead, he had
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stopped a passing servant and had issued his instructions. Soon she had
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found herself seated at a table with several of the young ladies from
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Dargon -- the same women who now ignored her, just occasionally flicking
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an incredulous look in her direction.
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There was still no sign of Melly, and Darienne was forced to stare
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down at the goblet in front of her and fiddle with the lace on her dress
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as she continued to distance herself from the company around her. A
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masculine voice at her side startled her.
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"Would you care for a walk in the garden?"
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She turned and looked up into the face of her future husband. This
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close she could see the dark intensity of his eyes, the hard lines of
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his nose and lips and the shadow of beard growth darkening his firm jaw.
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A brief fluttering of unease gripped her insides as she extended her
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hand wordlessly and stood up. The ladies around the table had ceased
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their conversations, and in the growing quiet, she could hear the
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clunk-clunk of Daeton's cane as they crossed the stone floor to the
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exit.
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As they descended the stairs, she had to pause and slow her pace to
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his. It was obvious from his tight-set lips that his leg pained with
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each step on the narrow staircase, and they descended without a word.
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Her mother had told her that Daeton had been badly wounded in the war --
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almost crippled. He would never recover, but was sufficiently propertied
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and titled for her father to have deemed this "a worthy match" for his
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youngest daughter. She recalled how her aging parents, who had been
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discussing her future with growing concern, were delighted when the
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unexpected marriage proposal had arrived. Daeton had not delivered it in
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person -- in fact, she had never met him before coming to Dargon.
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Instead, he had acted through an intermediary: a merchantman who was an
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acquaintance of his and an infrequent visitor to her father's household.
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The prospect of having to pay very little in the way of a dowry was
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an added benefit for her father's ailing fortunes, but Darienne had felt
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betrayed. Both her sisters had married early, when the family's wealth
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and their noble stature were still in their favor. Many years had passed
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and successive seasons of failed crops and unwise decisions had left the
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coffers bare. Added to that, Darienne's sharp tongue and keen wit had
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discouraged the few would-be suitors, despite her mother's implored
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pleas for her daughter to be less headstrong and unyielding. For
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Darienne, the men were either passive and mindless, or brash and
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aggressive. She had repeatedly expressed the view that a lifetime of
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loneliness was preferable to marriage with either kind. This was
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probably why, without as much as a consultation, her father had merely
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informed her that he had a husband for her. That had been less than a
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month ago, and here she was, with a crippled stranger at her side.
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Leafless vines twisted and curled over the archway that led into
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the garden. As they stepped onto the pebbled pathway beneath it,
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Darienne realized that the evening air around them was crisp, a sign
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that winter had not yet fully yielded its grasp on the land. She could
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feel Daeton's firm hand under her elbow and the unevenness of his gait
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as they continued to walk in uncomfortable silence.
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"You should see this garden in its full glory." His words hardly
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stirred the air and sounded as if they were wrapped in distant thoughts.
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She stared about her at the lackluster foliage, naked twigs and stark
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branches. The grass looked hard and dry and the shrubs bordering the
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path had the same brittle quality. Hardly glorious -- but her gaze was
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drawn to an imposing tree in the corner of the garden, its bare branches
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silhouetted against the late afternoon sunlight.
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"I've never seen a tree like that." She realized that this was the
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first time she had spoken in his presence and felt a blush on her
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cheeks.
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"It's an uncommon tree," Daeton responded, following her gaze
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upward to where the branches broke the late sunlight into soft beams. He
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steered her in its direction. "It has quite a tale attached to it."
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As they neared the tree, she saw that the bark on its mammoth trunk
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was almost black in color, coarse and scaly, and made up of deep grooves
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and ridges. High above her, the tree's gnarled limbs reached out into
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the deep blue sky, their harsh starkness contrasting sharply against the
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azure backdrop.
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"A tree with a tale." Darienne reached out and touched the bark,
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feeling its cool moistness beneath her fingertips. "Tell me about it."
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"Would you mind if I sat?" Without waiting for her reply, he limped
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across the path and settled on a wooden bench nearby. Darienne leaned
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back against the tree, resting her hands on the hardness of the bark as
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she steadied herself.
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"Many years ago, Cabot Dargon, Clifton's grandfather, fell in love
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with a sea merchant's daughter. It was a chance meeting. The prosperous
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merchant was from a distant land and his daughter had accompanied him on
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his voyage. She was radiantly beautiful, adventurous in spirit and quite
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unlike any other woman Cabot had ever met. However, she was no noble and
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everyone knew it. It was a very unsuitable match. Yet, the young Cabot
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Dargon was so smitten that he proposed marriage within days of the
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merchant's ship having anchored in the bay -- ignoring his advisors and
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dismissing the public outcry. He was in love." Daeton paused and
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Darienne responded with raised eyebrows and a disbelieving expression.
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Daeton spoke again.
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"Her father was not happy about leaving his daughter in a foreign
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land. Cabot offered a generous payment for her hand and promised her
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father that, as the future Duchess of Dargon, she would have status and
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wealth, and a husband who adored her. Still, the people complained and,
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it is said, they even jeered her in public. The young couple took to
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meeting in this very garden, away from critical and prying eyes. Cabot
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eased her fears with his words of love and prepared for a lavish wedding
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feast, inviting guests from far and beyond."
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Daeton stopped and stood up, walking back to Darienne's side
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beneath the tree before he continued.
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"The day of the wedding dawned. The first thing that Cabot saw when
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he looked out from his turret window was that the merchant's ship was no
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longer in the bay. He rushed downstairs, only to find that the merchant
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and his daughter had left under cover of darkness. Shattered and
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heartbroken, Cabot came to the garden to seek solitude. As he walked
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along the path, he noticed that a sapling had been planted in this
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corner, the freshly turned soil the only evidence that someone had been
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there. He instructed his gardener to nurture the small tree. It grew
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rapidly, and within three years, just about the time when Cabot had
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overcome much of his grief and heartache, he awoke one day to discover
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the tree in bloom." Daeton reached out and braced himself against the
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coarse trunk. "To this day, once a year the tree bursts forth with a
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profusion of richly perfumed purple blossoms. Cabot Dargon called it the
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Julip Tree, after the woman who broke his heart."
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There was a sudden silence in the garden again and Darienne
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realized she had been completely absorbed and that she was staring at
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the teller of the tale. Daeton's gaze settled on her and she felt a
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slight flush.
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"Hmmm. " She straightened brusquely and stepped aside. "An unlikely
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story."
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"No -- it was a real love story, even if it had a sad ending."
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Daeton looked up at the tree, running his hand over the rough bark.
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"Love stories involve two people." Darienne stared at the darkening
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sky. "You only know Cabot Dargon's tale. Perhaps it was a happy ending.
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Perhaps even her choice."
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Daeton kept quiet and Darienne sensed that her words had cut
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deeply. She could not help but wonder at his strangeness. He was aloof
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and confident, but then there was also an intensity and sensitivity she
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had never expected. He stepped back onto the path next to her. Their
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arms brushed fleetingly and his sudden closeness caused her to twist her
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head away.
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"It's getting late and my chaperone will wonder what has happened
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to me." Her words sounded as startled as she felt, still taken aback by
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the rush of powerful feelings that flooded through her in that brief
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moment. She turned abruptly and started to walk back to the castle,
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aware that Daeton would not be able to keep pace with her. As she left
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the garden, she glanced back and saw him seated on the bench beneath the
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Julip tree.
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The first thing she heard the next morning was Melly's urgent tone
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from afar, "Mistress Darienne!" She stirred in the rumpled sheets just
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in time to see her chaperone burst through the door.
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"What is it?" She sat up and shoved the covers back. "Can't it
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wait?" Her head was still throbbing from a troubled sleep.
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"It's Lord Daeton. He wants to see you. In the garden." Melly was
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panting from the exertion of the stairs and the words came in short
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bursts.
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Darienne leapt from the bed, stripped as hurriedly as she could and
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donned her petticoats while Melly lay her pale green day dress on the
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bed, then scrabbled in the trunks for matching slippers.
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"Did he say why?" she asked as she slipped the dress over her head.
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"A scullion brought the word just a few menes ago." Melly was
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trying to comb her hair, but Darienne flicked her hand away and brushed
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her own fingers through the tangle of curls instead. She caught sight of
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Melly's beaming face and scowled at her.
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"The man is a rogue!" she chided, not once thinking she could
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actually dampen Melly's enthusiasm after the young woman had told
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Darienne the previous night how thoroughly handsome and charming she
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thought Lord Daeton was. To make matters worse, Darienne had been unable
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to fall asleep easily -- her head filled with words and images and
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feelings all churned up by a man she really wanted to despise.
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"Bother and bluster!" she cursed, steeling herself inwardly for
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another encounter with Guston Daeton.
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A light breeze stirred and rustled in the garden as she hurried
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down the pathway to where he stood waiting. In the early morning light
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she noticed that the garden seemed to be awakening to the warmer days --
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a tender emerald grass shoot here and there and sprigs of green in the
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shrubs and trees were signs that spring had arrived. She saw with a
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strange sense of delight that the Julip tree was now also covered in
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delicate purple buds.
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"I'm sorry that you had to wait," she said breathlessly as she drew
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close.
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"One learns patience when you have a failing such as mine." He said
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the words matter-of-factly, pointing to his cane, but Darienne thought
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there was a bemused look in his eyes. He started to stroll ahead,
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leaving Darienne to clutch her skirts and follow him. After a few silent
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paces, he stopped suddenly and turned to look at her.
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"Do you know that when I asked about you, they described you as
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*unusual*."
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She felt the color sting her cheeks as the description sank in. It
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would typically be what her father would have said of her, his
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temperamental daughter with her odd ways and uncharacteristic looks. So
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unlike the painted and powdered ladies of Dargon who had been seated
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next to her last night. She looked away to hide the long-unexpressed
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hurt and anger she felt. There was an awkward silence when neither of
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them moved, but she sensed that he was watching her.
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"They were kind to me then," she said, trying to force a flippant
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tone.
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"Not kind," he said, his words hanging in the air until he
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continued in a lowered tone, "but not that wrong, Darienne." Her name
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sounded gentle on his tongue as he reached across and tilted her chin up
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with his fingers, forcing her gaze to meet his. "You are an unusually
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beautiful woman. Never be ashamed of your uniqueness."
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She swallowed, acutely aware of his light touch on her skin. He
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dropped his hand to his side and glanced away. She stared at his
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profile, the hard jaw and straight nose and the curve of his lips.
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He straightened and stepped away from her side. When he spoke
|
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again, his voice had a hard edge to it.
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"I may be a cripple, but I am not blind or unfeeling," he said
|
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through clenched teeth. "I've seen the reluctance in your eyes and
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sensed your disapproval."
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"Milord ..." she started, not sure what to say to the forthright
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man in front of her and thinking about her callous words at the dinner
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table. He paused before facing her again.
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"Perhaps what I have been is a fool." His tone was tinged with
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regret. He adjusted his footing and she noticed that the knuckles
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gripping his cane were white. "I suppose that I wanted a wife who would
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not see my limitations, but find comfort in my strengths."
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Darienne kept her eyes downcast but could feel the blood pounding
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in her ears and knew that her breathing had quickened.
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"That is the reason why I have decided to release you from this
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marriage obligation." The words, when he uttered them, were unexpected.
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It was what she had wanted to hear, but somehow it seemed unreal.
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"Lord Daeton, I ..." she stammered, not sure of what she was trying
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to say. She realized her father would lay the blame at her door, and
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rightly so. Daeton, too, had every right to be angry with her.
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"I will make it clear that it is my choice and see that there is no
|
|
shame in it for you." It was as if he had read her thoughts. He glanced
|
|
across at the Julip tree and spoke again in a rueful tone.
|
|
"I suppose you could say that I am anchoring a ship in the bay for
|
|
you."
|
|
In the moment that stretched between them, "Thank you, milord," was
|
|
as much as Darienne could muster.
|
|
|
|
Sunlight streamed in through the window as Melly thudded and
|
|
clumped around the room, folding clothes and moving their trunks out of
|
|
the way. Three tumultuous days had passed. Darienne pulled the drapes
|
|
aside and looked out over the garden, now jacketed in bright spring
|
|
blossoms and filled with the tittering of joyful birdsong.
|
|
She remembered how she had returned to the garden alone later that
|
|
day, drawn to the strange tree in the corner. She had picked one of the
|
|
tiny Julip buds and was caressing it in her hands, its scented tender
|
|
petals half unfurled and already showing a hint of deep violet. In that
|
|
moment, she had marveled at how the little bud was an assurance of color
|
|
and fragrance that would transform the hardness and ugliness of the
|
|
Julip tree. She had twirled around in the warm sunshine and watched the
|
|
blossom glide gently from her fingers, surprised to find thoughts of
|
|
love drifting into her mind. Then she had meandered back to the keep,
|
|
pausing to smell the fragrant blooms and touch the fresh green sprigs
|
|
along the way.
|
|
"You look truly beautiful, Mistress Darienne." Melly's cheerful
|
|
voice brought her back to the present as she fussed about at her
|
|
mistress's side, straightening the pleats of the rich cream brocade and
|
|
pulling the bodice tighter. "You are such a radiant bride!"
|
|
Darienne smiled and hoped that Guston would find her beautiful too.
|
|
In less than a bell, they would be man and wife. She trusted her
|
|
instinct that he would be a wise and caring husband. After all, she
|
|
suspected that he had known all along that unless she chose him freely
|
|
she would never be able to truly love him. She reached up and adjusted
|
|
the tendrils in her hair, carefully tucking the fragrant Julip blossoms
|
|
into the dark red curls.
|
|
|
|
========================================================================
|
|
|
|
Talisman Three
|
|
Part 1
|
|
by Dafydd Cyhoeddwr
|
|
<John.White@Drexel.Edu>
|
|
Fall, 748 FE
|
|
|
|
Author's Note: This segment of the Talisman Saga begins
|
|
approximately 420 years after Talisman Two in a portion of the
|
|
continent of Duurom that has all but forgotten the Fretheod
|
|
Empire. Called Farevlin, which means 'thousand lands', it is
|
|
made up of hundreds and hundreds of tiny kingdoms, dukedoms,
|
|
city-states, and autonomous towns, some no larger than an
|
|
average crossroads village. While Farevlin shares a common
|
|
language, background, and legends of unity, each state within
|
|
the area tends toward fierce individuality. Even so, there are
|
|
always people who prefer the legends to the present day.
|
|
|
|
The curtain opened, revealing a painted backdrop of a forest. The
|
|
crowd that had gathered in front of the stage quieted in anticipation.
|
|
The stage that now occupied the corner of the market square had been
|
|
quickly and sturdily erected not more than two bells ago, which showed
|
|
that the troupe -- Torenda's Troupe, as the proscenium proclaimed --
|
|
were professionals. But no one in Tilting Falls had ever heard of
|
|
Torenda or her troupe before, and all were curious to see what was about
|
|
to take place before them.
|
|
Two people walked into view from stage left. They were dressed in
|
|
tunics and baggy leggings and had swords belted over red tabards. They
|
|
walked to the middle of the stage, looking around themselves wide-eyed.
|
|
As they reached the center of the stage, they stopped advancing,
|
|
though their legs kept moving as if they were continuing to walk. As
|
|
their forward motion ceased, the backdrop started to move instead,
|
|
increasing the illusion of movement over just the mimed walking. Some in
|
|
the audience laughed in wonder at the clever trick.
|
|
The downstage figure asked, "Are you sure we followed the
|
|
directions properly, Samad?"
|
|
The upstage figure, Samad, said, "Absolutely, Dirik. I followed
|
|
every turn just like we was told. I don't know why we haven't found the
|
|
stag's glen in the Forest of Hawks. The forest must have moved or
|
|
something."
|
|
The audience laughed weakly, but it wasn't much of a joke -- more
|
|
of a pun on the moving backdrop, after all. Dirik said, "Well, if we're
|
|
lost then how are we going to find Sir Mefes? We went to a lot of risk
|
|
pilfering this jewel --" Dirik held up a large gold disk studded with
|
|
sparkling gems of various hues, "-- from Narial's temple, and we aren't
|
|
going to get paid unless we get it to Sir Mefes."
|
|
"What do you mean, 'we'?" Samad said heatedly as he stopped his
|
|
mimed walking in an exaggerated manner. Dirik ceased moving his legs
|
|
too, but the backdrop continued to move for a bit. The audience laughed
|
|
as both characters looked at the moving backdrop with exaggerated anger,
|
|
and Samad stomped loudly. The backdrop stopped, started, stopped again,
|
|
and then reversed its motion for several moments, as if returning to
|
|
where it should have stopped in the first place. It stopped again, but
|
|
the characters on stage waited for a beat or two, as if to be sure it
|
|
was going to stay where it was. It did. They nodded to each other in
|
|
satisfaction, and continued with their lines as the audience's chuckles
|
|
faded.
|
|
Samad repeated, "What do you mean, 'we'? *I* stole that jewel from
|
|
the coffers of the temple, while *you* played 'hide the offering' with
|
|
that cute slip of a temple maiden." The audience roared. "The only risk
|
|
you took," Samad continued, "was of exhaustion."
|
|
Dirik defended himself with, "Well, someone had to divert her
|
|
attention, and Narial *is* the goddess of lust, after all. It was the
|
|
natural thing to do."
|
|
"Yeah, so why is it that you always get to do the natural thing
|
|
when it is fun, and I get to do the natural thing when it is disgusting
|
|
or dangerous?"
|
|
The characters turned to face stage right again and started to
|
|
walk. The backdrop started up right on cue as Dirik replied, "Just
|
|
lucky, I guess." Samad shook his head resignedly as the audience
|
|
chuckled again.
|
|
The two thieves walked in silence for a few moments, and slowly,
|
|
normal forest sounds began to be heard. Bird calls, rustling leaves, and
|
|
the chittering of small animals sounded from backstage. Dirik looked
|
|
around with a smile on his face and said, "Well, at least it's a nice
|
|
day for a walk in the woods."
|
|
Samad continued to be grumpy and answered with, "Never did like the
|
|
woods. Can't see more than a couple of yards in any direction. Even the
|
|
paths twist and turn too much, and don't provide much better
|
|
visibility."
|
|
Dirik said, "You worry too much, Samad. What do we need to see far
|
|
for anyway?"
|
|
"To see where Sir Mefes is, for one," Samad said darkly. "And for
|
|
another, to see wild animals far enough away to have time to hide from
|
|
them."
|
|
"What wild animals?"
|
|
"Boars. Or bears, even."
|
|
"Bears?" asked Dirik. "Do you think there are really bears in these
|
|
woods, Samad?"
|
|
Samad sighed and said, "With your luck, Dirik, probably not.
|
|
Probably not."
|
|
Just then, a roar sounded from stage left. No one in the audience
|
|
had ever heard a bear, but that certainly sounded like the noise they
|
|
thought a bear would make. Everyone glanced to their left, and some even
|
|
looked a little worried.
|
|
The two characters looked over their shoulders and shouted oaths in
|
|
fear. Samad turned back around and said, "Of all the times for your
|
|
cursed luck to fail, Dirik. I dare say that this is Narial's fault --
|
|
her temple maiden probably thought she didn't get her bell's worth of
|
|
pleasure or something. I hope our legs are better than our luck. Run,
|
|
Dirik, run!"
|
|
The two characters accelerated stage right and the audience
|
|
naturally looked stage left to see what was chasing the two thieves.
|
|
They clearly expected a stage prop of some kind: a bearskin hung on a
|
|
cross-pole perhaps, or someone in a brown tunic with a mask on, or maybe
|
|
something clever or innovative, like the moving backdrop.
|
|
None of them were expecting what they actually saw, and when the
|
|
roaring, angry bear walked out of the stage left wings, three quarters
|
|
of the audience gasped in genuine fright. It stood half again as tall as
|
|
a man and was twice as wide. It had brown, shaggy fur, huge claws and
|
|
teeth, and small, angry-looking eyes. It lumbered after the two fleeing
|
|
thieves who were just disappearing into the stage right wings.
|
|
By the time it reached center stage, pursuing the characters and
|
|
not reacting at all to the screams from the audience, most people
|
|
realized it was a clever trick of some kind, or maybe a very
|
|
well-trained real bear. The few who had started to run stopped and
|
|
turned back in wonder. The bear stopped in the middle of the stage and
|
|
roared. The backdrop continued to move, and the bear batted at it,
|
|
giving a coughing grunt and stomping its paw. The backdrop stopped, and
|
|
the bear turned its head toward the audience and winked, slow and broad,
|
|
making them titter nervously, then laugh louder in relief. The bear
|
|
turned back to stage right and with another roar, it lumbered after its
|
|
prey.
|
|
The moment it vanished into the wings, stage right, two screams of
|
|
fear rang out, followed by sounds of general mayhem. Men shouting,
|
|
pleading, screaming, a bear roaring, ripping sounds, thuds of bodies,
|
|
all so exaggerated that the audience started laughing again after a
|
|
nervous moment of hesitation. When the arm came flying out, trailing
|
|
blood, the audience roared. The mayhem continued for some time, with an
|
|
occasional limb flying out onto the stage until there were more parts
|
|
than any two people could have had between them lying about.
|
|
Another figure walked onstage from stage left. He was tall and
|
|
handsome, clad from head to foot in chain mail -- coif, hauberk, and
|
|
leggings. A large sword hung at his side, and a shield, painted red,
|
|
hung at his back. He reached center stage and turned to the audience. He
|
|
didn't seem to notice or react to the commotion still coming from stage
|
|
right, nor did he acknowledge the body parts strewn around the stage.
|
|
"Excuse me," he said. "I'm Sir Mefes, and I seem to have misplaced
|
|
two of my hirelings. Perchance, might you have seen them?"
|
|
The audience knew what was expected of them at this kind of moment
|
|
in this kind of play. Somewhat raggedly but mostly in unison, they
|
|
nodded.
|
|
"By the Creaking Knee of Bovish, I knew they'd get it wrong!" Sir
|
|
Mefes stormed, looking at the stage and stomping his foot. Behind him,
|
|
the backdrop shifted hesitantly to the left, then back again. The
|
|
audience cackled.
|
|
Sir Mefes looked up and said, "I told them to meet me in the Forest
|
|
Stag Inn in the village of Hawk's Glen. How could they have twisted that
|
|
around to end up here?"
|
|
The cue was unmistakable; there was only one reply and the person
|
|
on stage was waiting for it. Without any hesitation at all, most of the
|
|
audience chorused, "I don't know."
|
|
"Neither do I," said Sir Mefes. "I don't suppose they had Norla
|
|
with them, did they?"
|
|
"No," replied much of the audience, while others just shook their
|
|
heads. Then, a few loud members piped up with, "They had a jewel!" to
|
|
which others added their voices belatedly, causing the sentence to echo
|
|
around the audience for a few moments.
|
|
In the spirit of the form, and as if he had heard it only once, and
|
|
not a score or more times, Sir Mefes replied, "Right, a shining jewel,
|
|
with golden hair and violet eyes: my daughter, Norla. I sent them to
|
|
take her from the Temple of Narial and bring her back to me. How
|
|
difficult could that have been -- she was the only one there at the
|
|
time?"
|
|
The audience shook their heads, and the boisterous, loud few said,
|
|
"A real gold jewel, not Norla."
|
|
"Damn them to Perda's Outhouse! But I should have suspected they'd
|
|
get that wrong, too. All right, do you know where they are now?"
|
|
"Over there," everyone said, pointing stage right.
|
|
Sir Mefes seemed to notice the noise from off stage for the first
|
|
time. He pointed stage right and asked, "There?"
|
|
The audience nodded, and said, "There. Bear."
|
|
Sir Mefes sighed, and said, "I suppose I should rescue them,
|
|
shouldn't I?"
|
|
The audience nodded again.
|
|
"Very well, I'll be right back. Thank you for your help, you've
|
|
been very kind." Sir Mefes turned and started walking towards the
|
|
ruckus, giving the audience a little wave as he left.
|
|
As the knight left the stage, the commotion changed. No more
|
|
screams sounded -- instead, it was the bear who sounded in pain. Furry
|
|
limbs flew onto the stage, and the audience cheered. The battle was soon
|
|
over, and presently all three characters returned to the stage, none of
|
|
them any the worse for wear. Sir Mefes walked between the two thieves
|
|
and shouted at them for being blundering fools, while Dirik tried to
|
|
give him the gem-studded golden jewel, and Samad just mumbled something
|
|
dark about luck.
|
|
The three kept walking across the stage, and exited stage left. The
|
|
curtain closed on the audience's applause, but the stage outside the
|
|
curtain didn't stay empty for long. Even before the applause had died
|
|
away, a woman walked onto stage from behind the curtain. She wore a
|
|
bliaut and underdress which were both sewn together from scraps of cloth
|
|
of all shapes, sizes, and hues.
|
|
"I'm here to keep your attention," she announced in an animated and
|
|
cheerful voice, "while my apprentices pass among you with tins in which
|
|
you can place representations of your appreciation of our skit in the
|
|
form of any coin you think it was worth."
|
|
Two more women, dressed in tunics and leggings like men, appeared
|
|
at either edge of the crowd carrying tins. They began to work their way
|
|
through the standing audience, one working from the front, the other
|
|
from the back.
|
|
The woman on stage continued, "Now, for my other apprentices --
|
|
Janile's Pack of Stretch-Rats." From both sides of the stage boiled
|
|
half-a-dozen ferrets, all dashing across the boards toward Janile. As
|
|
the stretch-rats scrambled up her skirts and under her bliaut, the
|
|
audience laughed and handed over their coin in payment for the
|
|
entertaining show they had just witnessed.
|
|
|
|
In a cave many miles from Tilting Falls, a man stood before a room
|
|
full of kneeling people dressed in simple robes of undyed linen. For a
|
|
cave, it was a very comfortable room. Only the uneven rock of the
|
|
ceiling betrayed its lithic origins; wood covered the floor, and the
|
|
walls were smooth like plaster and painted a light tan color. There were
|
|
three doors in the room: one on the wall the man faced, and two on his
|
|
left. The only other furniture in the room at the moment was the ornate
|
|
stone table that rested behind him. Lamps affixed to the walls provided
|
|
plenty of light.
|
|
That man was named Zarilt, and the people arrayed before him were
|
|
his students. As such, they called him Tchad, which meant 'teacher' in
|
|
an ancient dialect. It was a term of respect that Zarilt had finally
|
|
come to accept without undue embarrassment.
|
|
The door Zarilt faced opened and two figures entered. Both were
|
|
dressed in the same kind of robe as the kneeling people, but one wore
|
|
the hood up and the other had a blue belt tied at the waist. Zarilt
|
|
gazed serenely at the two as they walked up the aisle between the
|
|
kneeling people and stopped in front of him.
|
|
"Welcome, aspirant Kersh." The one with the blue-belted robe, a
|
|
fresh-faced young man with plain features and brown eyes, bowed
|
|
slightly, nervously, when he was addressed.
|
|
"And welcome to you as well, Virrila," said Zarilt in his rich,
|
|
deep voice that filled the cavern room easily. The hooded one bowed in
|
|
response. Zarilt continued, "You have undertaken to sponsor aspirant
|
|
Kersh, and have seen to his education in our Way. Do you judge him
|
|
ready? Has he learned what has been taught?"
|
|
A low voice came from the hood, echoing the nod with, "He is ready,
|
|
Tchad."
|
|
"Do you feel yourself ready to become a student of our Way,
|
|
aspirant Kersh?"
|
|
Still nervous, Kersh stammered, "Y-yes, Tchad."
|
|
Smiling like an indulgent uncle, Zarilt lowered his voice and
|
|
whispered, "Now, Kersh, there's nothing to be nervous about. We're not
|
|
like some of those death cults I'm sure you've heard about. If, by some
|
|
chance, you are not ready to join us, or you decide you do not want to
|
|
join us, you will be free to try again or leave as you wish. We will
|
|
even provide an escort back to Bluebell Rock.
|
|
"So, take a few deep breaths and steady your nerves, all right? I'm
|
|
sure that Virrila has done her job as well with you as she always does."
|
|
"Yes, teacher, ah, sorry, Tchad. I ... I'm more excited than
|
|
nervous, I think."
|
|
Zarilt looked out over his students, giving Kersh time to calm
|
|
down. More young people than old knelt before him, but that was only to
|
|
be expected. There were people from all over the thousand states of
|
|
Farevlin, and some from the even wilder land of Drigalit to the south.
|
|
Only a few of the many faces before him shone with the serenity he
|
|
endeavored to teach, but that didn't discourage him. He only provided
|
|
the philosophy of his Way, and an example of it. His students were
|
|
encouraged to learn his Way at their own paces. That he had been able to
|
|
teach anyone the serenity he possessed made all of the difficulties
|
|
worthwhile.
|
|
Zarilt looked back at Kersh, and found the young man calmer. He
|
|
pitched his voice to the room again, and asked, "Aspirant Kersh, what is
|
|
our Way?"
|
|
"Ah ... your Way is serenity, Tchad Zarilt," answered Kersh.
|
|
"And serenity comes from where?"
|
|
"From within, Tchad."
|
|
"How, aspirant?"
|
|
"Serenity comes from within through simplicity, Tchad," recited
|
|
Kersh. He didn't quite understand it, but Virrila had told him that
|
|
understanding would come in time.
|
|
"How, aspirant?"
|
|
Kersh's mind stumbled, thinking that the Tchad had somehow read his
|
|
thoughts about a lack of understanding. Then he remembered the litany he
|
|
had memorized, and recalled the correct response. "Tchad, simplicity
|
|
requires a break from the mundane world. Simplicity requires freedom.
|
|
Simplicity is found here, in the Treasury of Farevlin. Simplicity gives
|
|
us time to reflect and to find the serenity within each of us."
|
|
"Very good, aspirant," said Zarilt, his face almost glowing with
|
|
pleasure and serenity. "Now, do you understand what you have recited?"
|
|
His heart hammering, Kersh searched his memory for the proper
|
|
response. None came to him. The litany he had memorized was finished,
|
|
yet there were more questions being asked. What was he to do? He
|
|
recalled Virrila telling him that serenity came from truth, and so he
|
|
gave the Tchad the truth.
|
|
"Well, no, Tchad."
|
|
"Few among my students do as yet, aspirant. But tell me, do you
|
|
accept that the understanding will come, with time and effort on your
|
|
part?"
|
|
Zarilt watched Kersh think. His Way was no secret, and yet he was
|
|
not flooded with aspirants. Not everyone understood his Way, and even
|
|
fewer were willing to give up everything they knew, everything they had
|
|
been taught by their parents and friends, to see if there really was
|
|
meaning behind the words of the Way. Those that glimpsed that meaning
|
|
journeyed to his caves, the ancient Treasury of Farevlin, where they
|
|
were tutored in the rudiments of the Way. But to follow the Way required
|
|
a commitment, and now it was Kersh's turn to decide if he would accept
|
|
that commitment.
|
|
Finally, Kersh looked up at the teacher, the Tchad, and said, "Yes,
|
|
I do think that understanding is available, and I am willing to try to
|
|
grasp that understanding and find what the Way means to me."
|
|
"Then remove the blue belt of mundane concerns and take your place
|
|
among my students. Be welcome here, Kersh."
|
|
Applause rose from the kneeling students as Kersh untied his belt
|
|
and handed it to Zarilt. Virrila lowered her hood, revealing to Kersh
|
|
her strong-featured face and long black hair for the first time. Kersh
|
|
had come to know Virrila only by her words and actions, and he found it
|
|
odd to only now be associating a face with the person.
|
|
Kersh and Virrila clasped arms, and she led him to an open spot in
|
|
the front ranks of the students. Those near the open spot congratulated
|
|
Kersh on his wise decision, accepting him into their number immediately
|
|
and totally. Zarilt waited a few moments for the rejoicing to die down
|
|
before he continued the ceremony.
|
|
"Now, my students, before Kersh is shown to his new living space
|
|
and you all introduce yourselves to him, let me begin his teaching the
|
|
same way I began the teaching of every one of you.
|
|
"Once I had a life out in the world, like each of you once had and
|
|
may again. But I found that I was never happy, never truly, fully happy
|
|
in that life. When my Uncle Taddis, the previous Treasurer, died, I was
|
|
his only heir. So, I was removed from my former life and introduced to
|
|
one that allowed me time for deep contemplation. And out of that
|
|
contemplation came the Way.
|
|
"I must say first that I am no prophet. I speak for no religion or
|
|
god. My Way is available to any who can come to understand my words. Few
|
|
of you worship the Wheel as do I, yet several of you have found the
|
|
serenity of the Way as I have. You only need to understand the Way.
|
|
"Out in the world, you have all been taught that happiness comes
|
|
from others. If you are a good son or daughter, or a good father or
|
|
mother, you can find happiness. If you please your master -- whether
|
|
that master be your parents, the person you are apprenticed to, the
|
|
person who pays your wages, the person for whom you farm your land --
|
|
you will be happy. If you own enough property, whether land or goods,
|
|
you will be as good as or better than your peers, and you will be happy.
|
|
"All I can say to those lessons you have learned is that they are
|
|
false.
|
|
"Happiness can only come from within. You are the only one who can
|
|
make you happy. Happiness comes from simplicity, the simplicity you will
|
|
find here as I did. Here, you owe no one fealty, you owe no one work or
|
|
money. Here you will do your share of the work that needs to be done to
|
|
support us all, and no more. Here you will find happiness in the
|
|
simplicity of your new lives. And from happiness comes serenity.
|
|
Serenity is our Way.
|
|
"Let go of the concerns of the outside world. Forget power. Forget
|
|
material goods. Forget position. Forget politics. Concentrate on
|
|
yourself, understand yourself, and understand the Way. Once you have
|
|
accomplished this, once you have let the lessons of your life go and
|
|
accepted the Way, you will find the same serenity that I have."
|
|
The students of the Way began applauding. Zarilt brought his hands
|
|
together and bowed deeply to them, and then turned his back, dismissing
|
|
them. As they filed out of the cavernous room, he contemplated the five
|
|
items laid out on the top of the stone table, situated almost altar-like
|
|
in front of him. These were the only items contained within the
|
|
Treasury. These were the sum total of his charge, the purpose of his
|
|
position. But no longer the only purpose he served here.
|
|
Three of the objects had names and legends: the Chalice of Oronhil;
|
|
Hekorivas, the Scepter of Unity; and the Orb of Sdanyip.
|
|
The other two were unnamed. One of these was an oak branch carved
|
|
from amber. It was an exquisite piece of work and looked just like a
|
|
real branch of oak, except that it bore a leaf bud, an acorn flower, a
|
|
fully grown leaf, and a ripe acorn all at the same time. Because of
|
|
this, Zarilt suspected that it was an icon of some nature religion,
|
|
perhaps from a sect of his own religion of the Wheel.
|
|
While Zarilt had no knowledge of how the amber oak had come to
|
|
reside in the Treasury, the last object in his care had a history, if no
|
|
legends, associated with it. It had been left as payment for help that a
|
|
former Treasurer had provided in a time of need to some nomads who
|
|
called themselves Siizhayip.
|
|
That object was obviously incomplete, perhaps broken. It was a
|
|
stone sculpture of some kind bearing the figures of a cat and a falcon,
|
|
along with some intricately interwoven bands of three different
|
|
materials that filled the inner portion of the piece. It looked like
|
|
about one third of a larger piece, judging from the smooth, arced edge
|
|
and the other two jaggedly torn edges, shaping the whole into a large
|
|
wedge of a disk of some kind. The three materials that the bands were
|
|
made of were some kind of silver metal, some kind of gold-colored metal,
|
|
and one made of glass. The glass band originated from the center of the
|
|
falcon, and the silver band originated from the center of the cat.
|
|
Zarilt turned from his charges and found the room behind him empty.
|
|
He hoped that Kersh would succeed in his quest for serenity. His Way was
|
|
not for everyone: for every student he had at the moment, he had lost
|
|
five since he decided to spread his message. But he wasn't worried. He
|
|
didn't see his mission as one of numbers of people enlightened, but
|
|
rather one of spreading his vision.
|
|
And, of course, living his serenity for all to see.
|
|
|
|
The common room of the Headless Sheep Inn in Tilting Falls was full
|
|
to bursting that evening. Over half of the patrons crowding the room
|
|
were members of Torenda's Troupe. Most of the other half had seen at
|
|
least one of the three skits that the Troupe had put on that afternoon
|
|
in Tilting Falls' market square.
|
|
The early part of the evening had consisted of the residents of the
|
|
town reveling in being able to rub elbows with the troupe that had so
|
|
entertained them. The troupe had been toasted and congratulated, and not
|
|
one of them had to pay for the food and drink they were consuming -- at
|
|
least, not in coin. They did, however, have to endure being cornered
|
|
time and time again by townsfolk eager to inform them of their favorite
|
|
moments, reliving the afternoon's entertainments in excruciating detail.
|
|
It was fairly obvious to the entire troupe that Tilting Falls had
|
|
experienced a dearth of performers for quite some time.
|
|
Eventually, though, the townsfolk gathered into their normal
|
|
groupings to eat or drink, and only occasionally glance over at a table
|
|
of players and then excitedly tell their table companions yet again how
|
|
good some part of the skits had been. This allowed the troupe to do much
|
|
the same, glancing over at the townspeople and remarking on their odd
|
|
tastes in clothing or applied scent -- or lack thereof -- or whether
|
|
their own parts had been more favored by a table of people. This was all
|
|
done very quietly, of course; the troupe was planning at least two more
|
|
days in the market square, and it wouldn't do to anger the potential
|
|
customers.
|
|
At one table in the back, well-buffered from the townsfolk by a
|
|
layer of players' tables, sat most of the people who ran the troupe.
|
|
Bifrorlani was the owner and leader of Torenda's Troupe, having
|
|
inherited it from Torenda when she retired. It was common knowledge that
|
|
Orla ran the troupe far better than Torenda had, and it was only the
|
|
reputation of Torenda's Troupe that kept Orla from giving in to the
|
|
suggestions to change its name.
|
|
Orla was in her late thirties and had been with Torenda's Troupe as
|
|
actor, assistant manager, and then owner, for most of her life. She was
|
|
a plump woman, but had a bearing that usually kept people from noticing
|
|
her ample waistline. She had raven-black hair, pale skin and mismatched
|
|
eyes -- the left was blue while the right was brown. One of the several
|
|
earrings she wore in her left ear was a small blue disk bearing a silver
|
|
symbol: two pairs of two concentric ovals set cross-wise to each other
|
|
and interlaced. The small disk, less than an ebbit across and thus
|
|
smaller than the nail of her smallest finger, echoed a larger,
|
|
hands-width version of the same design tattooed on her right hip.
|
|
Next to her sat Aborkendo, a leading man in the Troupe as well as
|
|
their carpenter. Kend was swarthy-skinned, with brown hair and eyes, and
|
|
the bearing of a leading man -- handsome and well aware of it. But he
|
|
was also an accomplished carpenter and wood carver, and had no qualms
|
|
about putting in his fair share of the work at what some might consider
|
|
the more demeaning jobs that were required backstage.
|
|
As usual, Kend was carving a small figurine with a small-bladed
|
|
knife. Such was his skill that the rodent that was emerging from the
|
|
small stick seemed almost lifelike.
|
|
Hanging from his right ear, one of only two earrings he wore, was
|
|
the same kind of small blue disk that Orla wore. His left hip also bore
|
|
the same kind of tattoo.
|
|
Sitting across from the first two was Elianijit, the Troupe's stage
|
|
manager and scene blocker. Elin was fair of skin, with chestnut brown
|
|
hair and dark grey eyes. She not only made sure that props, sets, and
|
|
even actors were where they belonged during a production, she was also
|
|
quite capable of creating an entire skit from scratch as well as
|
|
starring in it.
|
|
Elin's left ear was decorated by a blue-disk earring; her right
|
|
hip, by a blue-disk tattoo.
|
|
There was one more person in the room who had an absolutely vital
|
|
part in running the troupe: Odonornaka, the Troupe's lead musician, was
|
|
sitting by the main fireplace and entertaining the room with her music.
|
|
Naka was a very pretty young woman, with long blond hair and grass-green
|
|
eyes. Her most striking feature was her nose, which, despite its large
|
|
size, was well-shaped and only enhanced her beauty.
|
|
Naka was proficient in a large number of musical styles on a wide
|
|
range of instruments, some of which she had invented herself. She
|
|
composed almost all of the music that the Troupe used, and it was her
|
|
job to teach and to lead the four other musicians that the Troupe
|
|
employed.
|
|
Naka also wore the blue-with-interlaced-ovals earring and tattoo.
|
|
The earring in her right ear was the newest of the four, though all were
|
|
equally clean and polished. The tattoo on her left hip was even newer
|
|
than that; she had made her place in the relationship official with that
|
|
tattoo only three months before, though she had been wearing the earring
|
|
for a year.
|
|
The three around the table had been discussing the day's
|
|
performances for the past two tankards, and were almost finished.
|
|
Discussing the first skit about the bear in the woods, Kend asked, "Was
|
|
the bear realistic enough, do you think?"
|
|
Orla responded, "Judging by the reaction of the crowd -- and that's
|
|
what counts, after all -- it was perfect. I mean, did you see how many
|
|
actually started to run?"
|
|
"Oh yes, the bear, the bear," said an older man as he came over to
|
|
the table. "You're talking about my bear ... our bear. It was great,
|
|
wasn't it, Kend? They were scared out of their wits! I just love how
|
|
that trick gets them every time."
|
|
The newcomer was named Githanjul, and he was the Troupe's
|
|
illusionist and mechanic. While his contributions to the Troupe were not
|
|
absolutely necessary, items like the moving backdrop and the bear
|
|
illusion certainly added a certain spark to even the most average skit
|
|
in their repertoire. The four Troupe leaders often considered him as
|
|
indispensable as any one of themselves.
|
|
Thanj was tall and slight, which made him look frail and older than
|
|
he was. His hair was strawberry-blond streaked with grey, and his wispy
|
|
yellow beard that kept mostly to the point of his chin only enhanced the
|
|
illusion of advanced years. His eyes, though, were sharp and keen, their
|
|
brown depths alive with alert intelligence.
|
|
His ears and hips were bare of relationship symbols, and many among
|
|
the Troupe wondered if he had ever been that close to anyone. No matter
|
|
how friendly and outgoing the illusionist was, there was always
|
|
something hidden about him that kept people from getting too close.
|
|
Kend said, "Yep, Thanj, as usual, your illusion was superb."
|
|
"Oh, now," said Thanj, "you know as well as I that I didn't do it
|
|
all myself." Thanj reached into the pouch at his side and withdrew a
|
|
small carving of a bear standing on its hind legs. "Without your
|
|
carving, Kend, that bear wouldn't have been half so realistic."
|
|
"Well, thank you, thank you" said Kend as everyone enthused about
|
|
his carving. "So, Thanj, should I carve some different bears, or can you
|
|
vary this illusion beyond the model?"
|
|
"Oh, ah ... I don't think you need to carve me any more bears,
|
|
Kend. I can stretch this illusion enough to make them look different if
|
|
we need to."
|
|
Thanj put the bear figurine away, and withdrew another object from
|
|
his belt pouch. "Oh, you've all got to see this. It's a new one; I've
|
|
been working on it for quite a while." He held in his hand a metal cone
|
|
about five ebbits tall and two-and-a-half ebbits wide at the base. It
|
|
was hollow, and had some kind of spidery carvings, almost like writing,
|
|
on the outside.
|
|
"Another choreographed illusion, Thanj?" asked Orla. "What is it
|
|
this time?"
|
|
"Just you wait!" he said as he leapt up and made his way to the
|
|
fireplace where Naka was playing. He whispered in her ear, then knelt
|
|
down and spun the cone so that it twirled on its tip on the hearth in
|
|
front of Naka. He then slipped back to the table, grinning from ear to
|
|
ear. Only the people at the table had noticed him moving.
|
|
The cone spun for a few more moments, and then suddenly flipped
|
|
over, coming to a complete halt pointing straight up. Just as suddenly,
|
|
a dancing figure appeared where there had been a cone. Naka changed the
|
|
music she was playing, her notes fitting perfectly to the movements of
|
|
Thanj's illusory dancer.
|
|
At the abrupt change in music, most of the other people in the room
|
|
turned to look at Naka. They saw the dancer, and murmurs of appreciation
|
|
went up from almost every table. The illusion was perfect, and Naka was
|
|
playing perfectly too, so that no one else knew that the beautiful,
|
|
scantily-clad woman dancing on the hearth wasn't real.
|
|
Her arms moved sinuously, but not as smoothly as her stomach and
|
|
hips. She didn't move away from the spot where the cone had stopped, but
|
|
she lifted her feet one after the other, shifting her hips, leaning
|
|
sideways and backwards, arching her chest out, rocking her head back and
|
|
forth. She even seemed to breathe in the middle of her dance movements.
|
|
Elin watched for several moments, then said, "I remember her!"
|
|
Thanj turned to her, his grin getting even wider. "Did I get her
|
|
right? I think so, but I can't really be sure."
|
|
"Oh, you did a fine job, Thanj. A fine job!" said Elin.
|
|
"You have some memory, though," said Kend. "We saw Prancha dance
|
|
what, a year and a half ago? Two years?"
|
|
"Thank you, thank you. Yes, for some things my memory is useful."
|
|
Thanj stared not at his illusion, but at the people watching his
|
|
illusion, drinking in their appreciation of his craft.
|
|
Eventually, the image of the dancing woman vanished, the illusion
|
|
played out. The players in the room knew what had happened immediately,
|
|
and started calling out praises to Thanj. The townsfolk, however, were
|
|
very greatly confused by the disappearing woman, and the noise level in
|
|
the room increased dramatically as they all speculated endlessly about
|
|
just who or what had been dancing on the hearth.
|
|
Kend said, "You know, Thanj, if you could get those special
|
|
illusions to move away from their source, you wouldn't need my carvings
|
|
anymore."
|
|
"Oh, no, Kend," said Thanj, "no, no, no. My choreographed illusions
|
|
cannot react at all to what is going on around them, while the person
|
|
carrying your carving with my illusion on it can move around, act,
|
|
react, do anything, and still look like the thing your carving is. No,
|
|
even if I could ever get my special illusions to move, your carvings
|
|
would still be just as required as ever."
|
|
Kend smiled, and said, "Thank you. I suppose you're right." Thanj
|
|
nodded, and left to retrieve his cone, while Kend went back to working
|
|
on the rodent he was carving. It looked something like a rabbit, and
|
|
something like a squirrel, and something like a ferret, and despite
|
|
looking in parts like all three of those animals it also looked like it
|
|
was just a dusting of magic away from coming to life.
|
|
Elin asked, as she usually did, "So, when can we put on one of the
|
|
serious plays, Orla?"
|
|
With the cadence of a well-rehearsed speech, Orla replied, "You
|
|
know as well as I do, Elin, that to do a serious play we need a proper
|
|
theater. No one wants to watch a tragedy while standing in a market
|
|
square. They just won't stay around long enough to get it. People who
|
|
are likely to set aside their daily business for a time to watch one of
|
|
our skits want diversion, not depth and plot. They want comedy, they
|
|
want absurdity, mayhem, and, above all, stretch-rats. You devise me a
|
|
skit with drama and pathos *and* gamboling stretch-rats, and I'll
|
|
seriously consider putting it into our market-square repertoire."
|
|
Everyone around the table laughed on cue, and some of the players
|
|
at adjoining tables chuckled, too. Elin had once tried to write just
|
|
such a skit as Orla had described, and the results *had* ended up in the
|
|
repertoire -- as one more comedy/action skit. Rumor had it that Elin was
|
|
still trying to write ferrets and drama into the same play.
|
|
Orla whistled and held up three fingers. Moments later, one of the
|
|
two waiters in the Headless Sheep Inn glided through the throng with
|
|
three foaming tankards. She expertly set them in front of the three at
|
|
the table and whisked the empties away, dodging pinching fingers and
|
|
grabbing arms all the way back to the bar.
|
|
Silence fell at the table as the three started in on their new
|
|
tankards. Instinctively, they kept their ears open to the conversations
|
|
filling the room with noise. The information gathering was almost second
|
|
nature -- the more that the players knew about the townsfolk, the better
|
|
they could fit their next two days of plays to them.
|
|
One table was discussing the relative merits of two tailors in
|
|
town. Orla noted several colorful turns-of-phrase that she was sure she
|
|
could use at some time in the future.
|
|
Another table was debating whether the wares of one particular
|
|
farmer were worth buying. They went over in detail the way he plowed his
|
|
fields, the products he used for fertilizer, the way he harvested his
|
|
crop, even the conveyance he used to bring his wares to market. And yet,
|
|
all it boiled down to was that his prices were too high and his produce,
|
|
in the expert opinions of those at the table, just wasn't as fresh as it
|
|
could have been.
|
|
One table was relating a particular rumor that was circulating
|
|
concerning the activities of someone calling himself Warlord Adamik.
|
|
Various versions of the rumor were compared, and though each was
|
|
different, they all held an aspect in common: that Adamik had taken up
|
|
the mantle of Unifier of Farevlin. Every so often, someone would decide
|
|
that the 'thousand lands' of Farevlin needed to be one land again.
|
|
Adamik had been only marginally successful so far, having supposedly
|
|
conquered two or three of the southernmost states in Farevlin. While he
|
|
was, according to rumor, an accomplished war leader, he still had the
|
|
hurdle of the fierce independence of the Farevlin states to overcome.
|
|
Three people in the corner were talking about the charms of their
|
|
current lovers. They were so drunk that none of them realized that they
|
|
were all seeing the same person, and every one of them assured the
|
|
others that their own lover was by far the superior one. Elin was
|
|
intrigued by the situation, and started working out a skit based on the
|
|
premise.
|
|
Actual seduction, as opposed to tales of it, was sparsely
|
|
represented in the room. Kend supposed that townsfolk had better places
|
|
to spark than the Headless Sheep Inn.
|
|
The inn door opened to let in three stragglers, and at that moment
|
|
a bolt of lightning lit up the room, thunder crashing down very shortly
|
|
after. The three newcomers struggled to shut the door against the
|
|
suddenly howling wind, and Orla caught a clear glimpse of hail rattling
|
|
to the ground.
|
|
As the three new people squeezed in around the bar, conversation at
|
|
several tables turned to the weather. Most were simply glad that they
|
|
were inside, in good company, with such excellent entertainment as was
|
|
playing by the fire.
|
|
One table, however, started trading 'wild weather' stories, which
|
|
made Elin and Orla, the writers, take notice. Local legends were always
|
|
good fodder for skits, and the Troupe hadn't been in the south of
|
|
Farevlin very often.
|
|
The story that seemed most interesting concerned a figure known as
|
|
Skrnahl, the Wild Hunter. Not quite a god, but not mortal at all,
|
|
Skrnahl was constantly roving the worst nights. During wild storms,
|
|
during the dark of the moon, or in the dead of winter, Skrnahl rode his
|
|
giant demon stag across the land, with a crown of lightning circling his
|
|
head and fire flashing from his eyes and dripping from his sword. He
|
|
drove a flock of invisible hounds before him that cleared his path of
|
|
anything living. He especially hunted cheats, bullies, liars: people who
|
|
picked excessively on the weak.
|
|
Elin privately wondered about that: she guessed that stormy or dark
|
|
nights were good times to get rid of people who caused trouble, and
|
|
blaming it on Skrnahl served to divert suspicion and serve as a warning
|
|
to those of a similar ilk to the recently 'hunted'.
|
|
The evening wore on, and eventually it was time to leave the
|
|
revelers behind. Kend stood, and held out his hand to Orla. There was a
|
|
nervous pause, and Elin stood instead, taking Kend's hand. Kend said in
|
|
a confused voice, "But, it is Orla's turn tonight. You were last night,
|
|
Elin. What ...?"
|
|
Orla said, "Ah ... I'm not feeling well tonight, Kend, so I asked
|
|
to switch with Elin. So ..."
|
|
Kend look relieved, and said, "No, that's fine, just fine. I hope
|
|
you feel better, Orla." He drew Elin close to his side, and together
|
|
they walked to the stairs that led to the lodgings.
|
|
Not very long after, Naka ceased her playing, much to the
|
|
disapproval of the crowd. She walked over to the table and sat down
|
|
beside Orla. The crowd wanted Naka to play more, and as long as she was
|
|
in the room, they continued to implore her to take up her instrument
|
|
again. Naka was very tired, so with some brief apologies, she and Orla
|
|
made their way to the stairs as well, hand in hand.
|
|
|
|
========================================================================
|
|
|
|
Friendships of Stone
|
|
Part 5: Corambis and Taishent
|
|
by Mark A. Murray
|
|
<mmurray@weir.net>
|
|
Dargon, Naia 6, 1015
|
|
|
|
Part 1 of this story was printed in DargonZine 10-6
|
|
|
|
Corambis sat in a chair behind his large green table. Carved into
|
|
the table was the Wheel of Life. Nine constellations divided the wheel.
|
|
Eight of them, Knight, Oak, Harp, Ship, Maiden, Torch, Fox, and Falcon
|
|
divided the wheel into eight divisions, while the ninth constellation,
|
|
Mistweaver, took up the very center. Symbols inscribed on the outer edge
|
|
of the wheel subdivided the constellations. These symbols were Air,
|
|
Scepter, Fire, Sword, Earth, Shield, Water, and Crown.
|
|
He had cast many readings on the table. Judging by the crowd
|
|
outside that he had to push through upon his arrival, today would be no
|
|
different. He called to Thuna, his attendant, to let the first one in.
|
|
There were two rooms in the building: one for his castings and another
|
|
for Thuna. Thuna's room was much smaller and was used as a foyer for the
|
|
customers to pay or wait temporarily. There was no answer from Thuna
|
|
that she had heard Corambis, but she brought in a young man before he
|
|
could call out again.
|
|
"I would like to know if my wife has been with any other men," the
|
|
man said at once.
|
|
"Sit, and we shall see," Corambis told him. Once the man was
|
|
seated, Corambis pulled ten wooden discs out of a bag. Nine discs were
|
|
blue while one was red. "Under what sign were you born?"
|
|
"The Oak," the man answered. Corambis nodded, and placed the red
|
|
disc on the area of the Oak and placed the other nine in a pile on
|
|
Mistweaver. "Pick up the discs, hold them in your hands, think of your
|
|
question, and then drop them on the table. You may say a prayer before
|
|
throwing them if you wish."
|
|
The man scooped up the discs, gave a silent prayer, and dropped
|
|
them on the table. The discs bounced but once before settling on the
|
|
table. Corambis studied the discs, and then asked, "Do you have
|
|
children?"
|
|
"No. I am newly married."
|
|
"You have no children?" Corambis asked again, studying the young
|
|
man's face, trying to read any lies. He didn't care about the fact that
|
|
the man was newly married and unsure of his wife's fidelity. He was
|
|
interested in the casting and its meaning.
|
|
"No."
|
|
"Do you have younger brothers or sisters?"
|
|
"No, I am the youngest. I have two older brothers and one older
|
|
sister."
|
|
"Do you work with the earth?"
|
|
"I am apprenticed to a merchant that ships things out at the docks.
|
|
I am on a boat more oft than not."
|
|
"I am sorry," Corambis told the man. "I can find no answer here to
|
|
your question."
|
|
"How can that be? You --"
|
|
"It can *be*, because sometimes Fate chooses not to answer a
|
|
question," Corambis said, interrupting him. "Now go. I will read for you
|
|
another day, but today there is no answer here for you."
|
|
The man silently got up and left. Corambis was thankful that he did
|
|
not protest as he saw the anger on the man's face. Studying the discs
|
|
one more time, Corambis shook his head. Things like this occur every
|
|
once in a while. He hoped that it would not be like this the whole day.
|
|
He called to Thuna to send in the next one.
|
|
An older woman came in and wanted to know if her husband would be
|
|
all right. He was sick and bedridden. She worried about him. Corambis
|
|
told her to cast the discs. She picked them up, muttered a prayer, and
|
|
dropped them. They bounced and settled onto the table.
|
|
Corambis knew that the answer given was not for the woman, because
|
|
the discs were in almost the same place as before. He extended his
|
|
apologies to the woman and quickly ushered her out. Thuna watched as
|
|
Corambis softly pushed the woman out the door before closing it.
|
|
"Thuna," he said, turning to her, "Close the shop. I will take no
|
|
more customers today." Moving back into his room, he picked up the discs
|
|
in both hands and dropped them to the table. While they did bounce more
|
|
than once, their ending positions were very close to the previous two
|
|
readings. "Thuna!" he yelled. "Run and get Dyann. Quickly! There are
|
|
things happening, and I need his help." Corambis could hear Thuna get up
|
|
from her chair. She started to bolt the door shut to keep other
|
|
potential customers out when someone started banging on the door.
|
|
"Open the door!" a voice yelled from outside.
|
|
"I've closed the shop *and* gotten Dyann," Thuna said, smiling. She
|
|
had recognized the voice on the other side of the door. She walked to
|
|
the curtain that separated the two rooms and moved it aside so that she
|
|
could see Corambis. "Do you want me to let him in?"
|
|
"Yes, you impish thing you, let him in!" Thuna let the curtain drop
|
|
as she turned to open the door for Dyann.
|
|
"Corambis," Dyann yelled as he walked through the door, ignoring
|
|
Thuna. "I've had the strangest dream!"
|
|
"The castings I've done today have all been alike," Corambis told
|
|
him, not listening to Dyann's mention of a dream.
|
|
"Yes, yes, but this dream was truly strange. There was this field
|
|
of green wheat and -- the same?"
|
|
"Very nearly the same," Corambis replied. "Come, cast the discs. I
|
|
am anxious to see what comes of your tossing them."
|
|
"How many readings did you do that were the same?" Dyann asked as
|
|
he stepped over to the green table.
|
|
"Two readings for customers, and I threw them once," Corambis said
|
|
as Dyann picked up the discs.
|
|
"All the same?" Dyann asked as he dropped the discs onto the table.
|
|
They bounced and landed in nearly the same place as the previous
|
|
castings.
|
|
"The same as what you've just thrown," Corambis told him. "What
|
|
would you make of that?"
|
|
"Body," Dyann said, pointing, "is on Earth. Future Adversary is on
|
|
the Fox. A very cunning adversary, I would say about that. Body on Earth
|
|
... I don't know about that part, though. Course of Action is on the
|
|
Ship. Movement is needed soon, I'd guess. Spirit is on the Air. The
|
|
Heart is on the Maiden."
|
|
"Children," Corambis interrupted. "Heart on the Maiden is
|
|
children."
|
|
"Future Ally is on Mistweaver," Dyann continued. "The red disc is
|
|
on the Oak. We're Oaks. I'd say that we have a very powerful adversary
|
|
and our allies are either unknown to us or non-existent, but definitely
|
|
out of our hands. The Body on Earth with the Spirit on Air tells me that
|
|
someone will die. With the Course of Action on the Ship, it will be
|
|
soon. And all this involves children."
|
|
"I believe," Corambis said, slowly, "that it is the children who
|
|
are going to die. And soon. But I think the Ship is there for us, too. I
|
|
think we must act soon, but to do what, I don't know. Save the children,
|
|
maybe. Our allies are unknown because we have no control over that.
|
|
Either they will be there or they won't depending on their own actions."
|
|
"Children!" Dyann yelled, suddenly.
|
|
"What?"
|
|
"My dream. I dreamt of a house near a field of green wheat. Near
|
|
this house were several large men digging a grave. After the grave was
|
|
done, they picked up these stone statues and threw them in the grave.
|
|
These stone statues were of men, but the statues themselves were only
|
|
seven or so hands high. Those statues had to be children. A smaller
|
|
version of a man!"
|
|
"You think your dream and my castings are connected?"
|
|
"Yes!"
|
|
"What do we do about it?" Corambis asked.
|
|
"We find the house and save the children."
|
|
"A house with green wheat?"
|
|
"It was a dream. Dreams aren't always the same as reality. It's
|
|
probably a field of new, fresh wheat that's still green."
|
|
"It's Naia. Wheat hasn't even started to grow yet," Corambis
|
|
argued. "What else do you remember about your dream?"
|
|
"That's it," Dyann answered. "What I told you is all that I
|
|
remember."
|
|
"Not a very good start, is it?" Corambis sighed as he leaned back
|
|
in his chair.
|
|
"You know," Dyann said, "we've been all over the outside of Dargon
|
|
in our searches for herbs and such."
|
|
"And?"
|
|
"And we should know the farmers' fields fairly well by now. But I
|
|
can't remember where the fields of wheat grow."
|
|
"Oh! I see. You still think your dream really meant a field of
|
|
wheat. If you hadn't dreamt of wheat, you wouldn't have known what kind
|
|
of field it was. Spring fields all look alike. Hmmm ..."
|
|
"I remember a field of some kind of grass southeast of here," Dyann
|
|
said.
|
|
"It was a field of grass all right," Corambis retorted. "Just a
|
|
field of grass. That was the field the farmer wasn't planting on last
|
|
year. Remember?"
|
|
"Right. I remember it now. He asked us to pick up the rocks while
|
|
we were out searching for herbs and plants in his field," Dyann
|
|
chuckled. "It's no wonder he wasn't planting in it with all those rocks.
|
|
I wasn't about to pick them up for him."
|
|
"We did find some rare mushrooms, even if they were almost dead,"
|
|
Corambis said.
|
|
"That was all we found. Even on our way back when we searched the
|
|
pine grove, we didn't find a single mushroom there. And we always found
|
|
mushrooms in the pine grove."
|
|
"That's it!" Corambis shouted. "You've just found your field!"
|
|
"What? What are you yelling about?"
|
|
"Your green field of wheat! The field next to the pine grove was a
|
|
large hayfield, wasn't it? Not exactly wheat, but close enough. And the
|
|
pine grove is green year round."
|
|
"Come on then," Dyann said, heading out the door. "If your castings
|
|
are right, we don't have much time!" Corambis grabbed his cloak as he
|
|
followed Dyann out the door.
|
|
"Where are you two going now?" Thuna asked as the two older men
|
|
rushed past her. The closing of the door was her only answer. "From what
|
|
I overheard, a trip to Jerid's office is in order," she muttered to
|
|
herself. "Those two are most certainly going to get themselves into
|
|
trouble. Children in danger, hmmph. More like they're the ones going to
|
|
be in danger."
|
|
|
|
"We should get some of the guard," Corambis told Dyann.
|
|
"Bah, if we run across a patrol, we will stop and get them. But do
|
|
you really want to waste the time hunting one down?"
|
|
"No, I suppose not," sighed Corambis. "Not if time matters."
|
|
"Besides," Dyann continued, "what is there that two of Dargon's
|
|
most powerful mages can't handle?"
|
|
"Don't joke about that," Corambis warned. "We both know the
|
|
difference between common opinion and truth. Our reputations are going
|
|
to get us in trouble one of these days."
|
|
"Maybe," Dyann said.
|
|
"I see the causeway," Corambis said, changing the subject.
|
|
The two turned south just before the causeway onto River Road. Just
|
|
south of that intersection stood one of Dargon's main gates. The two
|
|
walked through the open gate. "I thought the pine grove was close to the
|
|
gate?" Dyann said.
|
|
"You say that all the time," Corambis replied. "It's about a league
|
|
away from the gate."
|
|
"It always seems closer on the way back."
|
|
"Everything always seems a shorter distance on the way back,"
|
|
Corambis explained. "It is the way of the world. Getting to one's
|
|
destination is ever rough, hard, and strewn with obstacles. It is
|
|
unfamiliar and takes longer to get there. Once there, the way back seems
|
|
easier and quicker, but of course it's easier. You've just gone over it
|
|
and all the obstacles.
|
|
You know it better now than you did before."
|
|
"We've walked this road to and from many times," Dyann countered.
|
|
"Why does it always seem to take longer to get there?"
|
|
"I was speaking metaphorically," Corambis replied.
|
|
"You were speaking something all right. Rambling metaphorically
|
|
more likely, though." The banter continued as they walked down the road.
|
|
|
|
"Look, there's the pine grove," Corambis said. "There is only one
|
|
house next to it."
|
|
"Yes," Dyann said. "Last summer that house was empty, too. What do
|
|
you wager that it's still empty now?"
|
|
"Your money," Corambis laughed.
|
|
"Quiet!" Dyann ordered. "Did you hear that?"
|
|
"No, what was it?"
|
|
"Listen." Both stopped on the road and stood quietly listening.
|
|
They could hear several birds nearby and the muffled sound of the river
|
|
Coldwell. Just as Corambis started to speak, they heard a scream.
|
|
"Sounds like a child or a woman," Corambis said.
|
|
"Child," Dyann replied. "Or my dream and your casting is wrong.
|
|
Come on." Dyann picked up the pace and headed for the house. When they
|
|
got closer, they could hear a child yelling and screaming and crying.
|
|
The sounds seemed to be coming from behind the house near the pine
|
|
grove. Both men hurried around the house.
|
|
When they got to the back of the house, they saw three large men
|
|
carrying off two children. One of the boys was screaming and crying
|
|
while the other boy was quiet.
|
|
"Stop!" Dyann yelled as he ran toward them. Corambis was right
|
|
behind him as he watched one of the men plunge a knife into the quiet
|
|
boy, causing the boy to scream. The other boy stopped kicking and
|
|
yelling and fell silent.
|
|
"I said stop!" Dyann yelled louder when the other boy started
|
|
screaming again. "In the name of Duke Clifton Dargon, I said stop!"
|
|
Dyann was surprised to see that the three men stopped and stared at him.
|
|
Then, suddenly, they turned and ran into the pine grove, leaving the two
|
|
boys behind.
|
|
"What did you do, Dyann?" Corambis asked as they reached the boys.
|
|
"Nothing but yell," Dyann replied. Corambis knelt by the fallen boy
|
|
and examined him. The sound of horses could be heard behind them.
|
|
"He's alive. Can't tell how deep the wound is, but he still draws a
|
|
strong breath." Corambis said.
|
|
"The militia," Dyann said. "That's why those men ran. The militia
|
|
is coming."
|
|
"Eh?" Corambis muttered as he stole a glance behind him. Sure
|
|
enough, four men on horses were drawing close. Behind them, he could see
|
|
more guards running on foot.
|
|
"It doesn't look good," Dyann said, looking down on the boy who was
|
|
stabbed.
|
|
"Dyann!" Corambis yelled. "Quiet! We'll save him!"
|
|
"Matthew?" the standing boy whispered.
|
|
"What's that?" Dyann asked. "Is his name Matthew or is that your
|
|
name?"
|
|
"It's his name," Ben answered as he knelt next to Matthew. "Is he
|
|
going to be okay? He's my best friend." Ben looked up, teary eyed, at
|
|
the two old sages.
|
|
"I can't tell how far the blade went into his body, but his
|
|
breathing is strong," Corambis answered, holding back his own tears.
|
|
"Still, we have to stop the blood flow. But we'll make sure he lives."
|
|
"You can't die, Matthew," Ben said. He reached out gently to feel
|
|
Matthew's stomach. Blood was still trickling out. "You can't die," Ben
|
|
repeated. He placed both hands over the knife wound and stared at them.
|
|
His hands began to glow. Corambis and Dyann just watched. Ben's hands
|
|
glowed a little brighter as he held them on Matthew's stomach. Matthew
|
|
moaned, but the flow of blood stopped.
|
|
"What's going on here?" Jerid said from behind them as he pulled
|
|
his mount to a stop. "Thuna shows up at my office telling me you two are
|
|
going to get killed and that there are children in danger."
|
|
Corambis and Dyann blocked Jerid's view so that he couldn't see
|
|
either of the boys fully. Getting off his horse, Jerid walked over to
|
|
them. "Who's on the ground, father?" As he stepped between Corambis and
|
|
his father, he saw who it was and quickly knelt to examine Matthew.
|
|
"What happened? Ben, are you all right? This is a knife wound, although
|
|
it's not very deep. We'll still need to get him to a healer. Who did
|
|
this?"
|
|
"Three men. They ran off into the pine grove," Corambis answered.
|
|
"Did you see that?"
|
|
"Yes," Dyann said. "He's a bit young and the wound didn't heal all
|
|
the way, but he's got the talent for a fine healer."
|
|
"See what?" Jerid asked. "The men running away? I saw them. Koren
|
|
took some of my men into the pine grove after them. You didn't see them
|
|
ride past you?"
|
|
"Ben just healed that boy," Corambis told him.
|
|
"How did you do that?" Dyann asked Ben.
|
|
"It was a gift from a friend," Ben replied.
|
|
"Matthew's going to live by the looks of things," Jerid said,
|
|
interrupting them. "Can you two get him to a healer? That wound still
|
|
needs to be attended to. I'm going to see about those three men that
|
|
ran."
|
|
"Sharin and Tara," Ben whispered.
|
|
"What's that?" Jerid asked.
|
|
"Sharin and Tara are in the house. In the cellar."
|
|
"Come on!" Dyann yelled as he turned toward the house.
|
|
"Father!" Jerid hissed. Dyann stopped and turned to his son. "The
|
|
boy needs a healer," Jerid stated. "You and Corambis are the closest we
|
|
have to that right now. I'll search the house." Not waiting for a reply,
|
|
Jerid ran to the house.
|
|
He cautiously opened the door and listened for sounds inside.
|
|
"Lieutenant?" a guard called his name from behind him. Jerid
|
|
ignored him and stepped inside the house. The guard followed. Both men
|
|
moved slowly through the room as they listened and looked for possible
|
|
attackers.
|
|
"The cellar," Jerid whispered as he turned the corner and saw a
|
|
door and a set of steps. "The girls are in the cellar." The guard moved
|
|
ahead into another room while Jerid looked up the stairs. Seeing and
|
|
hearing nothing, he turned back to the door and opened it. A set of
|
|
stairs wound down into the cellar.
|
|
"Tara? Sharin?" he called down into the darkness. He heard muffled
|
|
sounds, but it was too dark to tell what was down there.
|
|
"I don't see anyone here," the guard told Jerid as he returned from
|
|
the other room. "The front door is wide open. Whoever was here is gone
|
|
now."
|
|
"Find a lamp," Jerid ordered.
|
|
"There's one in the room we first entered," the guard replied. A
|
|
moment later, he returned with a lit lamp.
|
|
Moving down the stairs, the light flickered ahead of them and
|
|
slowly lit the cellar. Jerid saw both girls when he reached the bottom
|
|
of the steps. They were bound, gagged and dirty. The whole place smelled
|
|
like rotten food.
|
|
"Are you alright?" the guard asked as he started to untie them.
|
|
"Yes," Tara answered once the gag was gone.
|
|
"I will be," Sharin replied, "Once you get me out of here." She
|
|
started to stand but her legs gave out and she collapsed on the ground.
|
|
"Maybe not. My legs won't hold me." Jerid and the guard carried her
|
|
upstairs and outside to fresh air. Tara followed close behind.
|
|
|
|
Duke Clifton Dargon sat in his large, regal chair in his large
|
|
audience chamber in his keep. He listened to each of the people in front
|
|
of him as they told their story. Lieutenant Jerid Taishent related what
|
|
he knew about the whole incident first. Captain Adrunian Koren was next,
|
|
followed by Corambis, Dyann, Tara, Sharin, and finally Matthew and Ben.
|
|
Jerid explained that the house had been empty when he had searched
|
|
it, except for the two girls in the cellar. They had been dirty and
|
|
bruised, but otherwise fine. Koren told how he and the guards had rode
|
|
down the fleeing men and captured them. They had given up without much
|
|
of a fight. Corambis and Dyann kept interrupting each other in relating
|
|
what they knew, but they told of how they had come to the house and what
|
|
they had seen when they reached it. Sharin told Dargon that although
|
|
they had treated her coursely, they had valued her talents more than
|
|
anything else. Tara spoke of what she knew and how the events in the
|
|
house had transpired after her failed attempt at a rescue. Matthew and
|
|
Ben took the longest in their views on what happened. Matthew was still
|
|
wearing bandages, but he was healing quickly.
|
|
As Dargon listened, he realized he should have let the boys speak
|
|
first, but protocol insisted that the officers of the guard go first. It
|
|
was a long and involved story and he knew parts of it already. His
|
|
friend Lansing Bartol was standing to his right listening as well.
|
|
"Am I to understand that the kidnapper is still free?" Dargon asked
|
|
when all were finished relating their parts.
|
|
"Yes sire," Jerid replied. "He was not in the house when I searched
|
|
it.
|
|
He must have fled when we were outside tending to Matthew."
|
|
"And that he was not a noble?"
|
|
"Yes sire," Koren said. "We are certain of that fact."
|
|
"From the men you captured?"
|
|
"They told us everything they knew," Jerid said.
|
|
"Did you torture those facts out of them?"
|
|
"No sire," Jerid replied. "Once they were brought back to the gaol,
|
|
they told us everything they knew freely and of their own will."
|
|
"He is a thief and a murderer, milord, but not a noble," Koren
|
|
said. "He robbed a passing caravan, killing all and taking on the
|
|
identity of one of the murdered traders. From there, he used that
|
|
identity and told everyone he was a noble from Magnus."
|
|
"The men you captured told you that and you believe them?"
|
|
"They did tell us that, and we are checking on the truth of what
|
|
they said," Jerid replied. "We sent riders to Shireton, Heahun, and
|
|
Kenna to see if they recognized the trader's name. The story could be
|
|
true."
|
|
"I want to be informed of what you find as soon as you hear
|
|
anything," Dargon ordered. "It will be one less burden if it was a
|
|
noble. If it wasn't ... That's a situation I'd rather avoid confronting,
|
|
especially now that we need all the nobles' support for rebuilding the
|
|
town and duchy. The war has overtaxed us all. If this thief and murderer
|
|
isn't found, I don't want anyone to know that he wasn't a noble."
|
|
"Milord?" Jerid asked.
|
|
"Do you understand, Captain Koren?" Duke Dargon asked.
|
|
"No milord," he answered.
|
|
"Lansing?"
|
|
"Yes, milord," Lansing answered.
|
|
"Tell them what you think," Dargon said.
|
|
"If the thief was *not* a noble and word gets out, then every
|
|
thief, murderer, and bandit with some intelligence will attempt to do
|
|
the same thing. Whether they succeed or not would not matter. It could
|
|
become a very large problem and the duchy would be in more turmoil."
|
|
"Do you understand now?" Dargon asked. Koren and Jerid nodded.
|
|
"Good.
|
|
"You need to find this thief and make sure that he does not tell
|
|
anyone what he did. Do you understand that, also?" He leaned forward and
|
|
stared at the two men. "He is not to tell *anyone*," he emphasized.
|
|
"Yes, milord," Jerid replied.
|
|
"No one," Koren added.
|
|
"You two are to be commended on what you have done so far. But see
|
|
that you do finish this affair." Dargon leaned back into his chair and
|
|
turned towards Corambis and Dyann. "It seems that you two are to be
|
|
commended also. Your timely intervention saved at least one of the boys'
|
|
lives, maybe both. However," Dargon's eyes narrowed, "if you put
|
|
yourself in danger again without alerting my guard, I'll have you thrown
|
|
into gaol. Is *that* understood."
|
|
"It is, milord," Corambis replied.
|
|
"Yes, milord," Dyann said.
|
|
"Tara," Dargon addressed the young girl, "you are also included.
|
|
You're lucky to be alive. I will *not* have people going off on their
|
|
own and endangering the lives of others. You *will* alert the guard if
|
|
there is a next time. I pray there won't be, but if there is ..."
|
|
"Yes, milord," Tara said a bit weakly.
|
|
"Sharin," Dargon began, "I understand that most of your sculptures
|
|
were returned unharmed. I also am told that you are a very good
|
|
sculptor. When you get settled back in and find time, I would like to
|
|
commission a sculpture or two from you. I can't compensate you for your
|
|
losses for what happened in my town without raising some suspicions
|
|
somewhere. This is my way of doing that without arousing those
|
|
suspicions."
|
|
"Thank you, milord," Sharin replied. "I would be happy to sculpt
|
|
something for you."
|
|
"And you two," Dargon addressed Ben and Matthew. "Will our paths
|
|
always cross?" Dargon watched the confusion in the boy's eyes. "You
|
|
don't remember me, do you?"
|
|
"No, milord," Ben said. Matthew looked hard at Dargon and then
|
|
walked forward to stand in front of him.
|
|
"Yes," Matthew replied. "I do remember you now. We ran into your
|
|
guards. I recognized him," Matthew turned his head toward Lansing
|
|
Bartol, "but not you. You've changed. I remember a light in your eyes
|
|
and your smiles when we ran into you and your guards. You're ...
|
|
different ... The light's gone and you haven't smiled since we've been
|
|
here. And your arm is gone."
|
|
"Yes, child," Dargon sighed. "I have changed. The war changed us
|
|
all. I, too, remember the first time we met. It seems like a lifetime
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ago. I wish that only my arm had changed, but ..."
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Ben walked up to Dargon and threw his arms around him in a tight
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hug. "Rachel says," Ben said, "that nothing changes that can't be turned
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to a good light. She says someone called Cephas told her that. So you
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see, the light in your eyes can come back."
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"The innocence of children saves us all," Lansing Bartol laughed.
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Dargon's eyes grew wide and then he smiled.
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"If only the children were the rulers of the kingdoms," Dargon
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chuckled.
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"Come now, off my lap. Should anyone come in, I would have to throw
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them in the gaol to stop the rumors that I've a soft heart."
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"You wouldn't do that would you?" Ben asked as he stepped back.
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|
"No," Dargon laughed. "No, I wouldn't." Dargon turned his attention
|
|
to Ben. "I've been told that you might have a healer's touch. I've
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|
arranged for an apprenticeship with Elizabeth here at the keep." Turning
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|
to Matthew he said, "And there's an apprenticeship in the militia open
|
|
for you."
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|
Sitting back in his chair, Dargon relaxed a bit. "You've brought
|
|
some small light back into my life, both of you. I am thankful for that.
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|
Should you ever wish to visit me, you have an open invitation to do so.
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|
I'll see to it that my staff knows that."
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|
"Thank you," Matthew replied.
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"How about tomorrow?" Ben asked. Lansing laughed.
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|
"You did say it was open," Lansing said.
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|
"Not tomorrow," Dargon said. "I have a wife and a daughter that I
|
|
need to spend time with. It has been far too long since I did so. In
|
|
fact, today is a better day to do that. Lansing, you can fill in for me
|
|
for the rest of the day."
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|
"Milord?" Lansing asked, his voice squeeking just a bit higher than
|
|
normal.
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|
"It's time you started being more than just captain of the militia.
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|
I think the meetings with the local merchants are a good place to
|
|
start," Dargon chuckled.
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"I think I liked the other you better," Lansing replied. "Local
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merchants, indeed. You always hated those meetings."
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"You'll come to like them, I'm sure of it," Dargon said, a smile on
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|
his lips and a twinkle in his eye.
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========================================================================
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