Aug072010
Here on this small farm-holding bought with gold...
Here on this small farm-holding bought with gold fearfully hidden on his person during that long, blind journey seventeen years ago, sure that a murderous pursuit was riding close behind
He had survived, though, and the boysComing to this village on a day in autumn long ago: strangers arriving in a dark timeA time when so many people had died and so many others were brutally uprooted all across the Palm in the wake of the Tyrants' comingBut the three of them had somehow endured, had even managed to make the land put forth a living for them in good yearsIn Certando's bad years latterly he had had to deplete his dwindled reserve of gold, but what else was it for, at this point?
Really, what else would it be for? Menna and the two boys, they were no longer boys, of course, were his quilted chanel purse heirsThey were all he could claim as family nowThey were all he had, if one didn't count the dreams that still came in his nights
He was a cynical man, having seen a great deal in the days before his darkness came, and after, in a different way of seeing, but he was not so burdened by irony as to defeat wisdomHe knew that exiles always dreamt of home and that the sorely wronged never really forgotHe had no illusions about being unique in this
"Eanna love us, Adaon preserve us from, Triad save us!"
Menna fell silent, very abruptlyAnd for the same reason the old man sat suddenly upright in bed, wincing at a sharp protest from his spineThey had both heard it: a sound outside in the nightIn the Ember Night, when no one should be abroad
Listening carefully he caught it again: the sound, delicate chanel classic bag and faint, of pipes playing in the darkness outside, passing by their wallsConcentrating, the old man could make out footstepsThen, his heart beating dangerously fast, he swung out of bed as quickly as he could and began to dress
"It is the dead!" Menna wailed in the far room"Adaon preserve us from vengeful ghosts, from all harmEanna love us! The dead have come for usMorian of Portals guard our souls!"
Despite his agitation the old man paused to note that Menna, even in her fear, still included him in prayersFor a moment he was genuinely movedIn the next moment he ruefully acknowledged the inescapable fact that the succeeding two weeks of his life, at least, were likely to be sheerest domestic torment
He was going outside, of courseHe knew exactly who this wasHe finished dressing and vintage tank watch reached for his favorite stick by the doorHe moved as quietly as he could, but the walls were thin and Menna's hearing almost as good as his own: there was no point in trying to slip out unheardShe would know what he was doingAnd would make him pay the price
Because this had happened beforeOn Ember Nights and other nights for almost ten years nowSure of foot inside the house he went to the front door and used his stick to roll back the chink-blocker on the floorThen he opened the door and went outMenna was praying again already: "Eanna love me, Adaon preserve me, Morian guard my soul The old man smiled a wintry smileWatery porridge in the morningBurnt, tasteless khavHe stood still for a moment, still smiling faintly, breathing the crisp, cool airMercifully, the wind had died down a little, vintage gucci handbags his bones felt fineLifting his face to the night breeze he could almost taste the spring to come
He closed the door carefully behind him and began tapping his way with the stick along the path towards the barnHe had carved this stick when he still had his sightMany times he had carried it in the palace, an affectation at a dissolute courtHe had never expected to need it in this wayIts head was the head of an eagle with the eyes lovingly detailed, wide and fiercely defiant
Perhaps because he had killed for the second time in his life that night, Devin was remembering that other much larger barn from the winter just past, in Astibar
This one was far more modestOnly two milk cows and a pair of plow horses stabledIt was well-made though, and warm, with the smell of the animals and clean omega seamaster gold straw
He had survived, though, and the boysComing to this village on a day in autumn long ago: strangers arriving in a dark timeA time when so many people had died and so many others were brutally uprooted all across the Palm in the wake of the Tyrants' comingBut the three of them had somehow endured, had even managed to make the land put forth a living for them in good yearsIn Certando's bad years latterly he had had to deplete his dwindled reserve of gold, but what else was it for, at this point?
Really, what else would it be for? Menna and the two boys, they were no longer boys, of course, were his quilted chanel purse heirsThey were all he could claim as family nowThey were all he had, if one didn't count the dreams that still came in his nights
He was a cynical man, having seen a great deal in the days before his darkness came, and after, in a different way of seeing, but he was not so burdened by irony as to defeat wisdomHe knew that exiles always dreamt of home and that the sorely wronged never really forgotHe had no illusions about being unique in this
"Eanna love us, Adaon preserve us from, Triad save us!"
Menna fell silent, very abruptlyAnd for the same reason the old man sat suddenly upright in bed, wincing at a sharp protest from his spineThey had both heard it: a sound outside in the nightIn the Ember Night, when no one should be abroad
Listening carefully he caught it again: the sound, delicate chanel classic bag and faint, of pipes playing in the darkness outside, passing by their wallsConcentrating, the old man could make out footstepsThen, his heart beating dangerously fast, he swung out of bed as quickly as he could and began to dress
"It is the dead!" Menna wailed in the far room"Adaon preserve us from vengeful ghosts, from all harmEanna love us! The dead have come for usMorian of Portals guard our souls!"
Despite his agitation the old man paused to note that Menna, even in her fear, still included him in prayersFor a moment he was genuinely movedIn the next moment he ruefully acknowledged the inescapable fact that the succeeding two weeks of his life, at least, were likely to be sheerest domestic torment
He was going outside, of courseHe knew exactly who this wasHe finished dressing and vintage tank watch reached for his favorite stick by the doorHe moved as quietly as he could, but the walls were thin and Menna's hearing almost as good as his own: there was no point in trying to slip out unheardShe would know what he was doingAnd would make him pay the price
Because this had happened beforeOn Ember Nights and other nights for almost ten years nowSure of foot inside the house he went to the front door and used his stick to roll back the chink-blocker on the floorThen he opened the door and went outMenna was praying again already: "Eanna love me, Adaon preserve me, Morian guard my soul The old man smiled a wintry smileWatery porridge in the morningBurnt, tasteless khavHe stood still for a moment, still smiling faintly, breathing the crisp, cool airMercifully, the wind had died down a little, vintage gucci handbags his bones felt fineLifting his face to the night breeze he could almost taste the spring to come
He closed the door carefully behind him and began tapping his way with the stick along the path towards the barnHe had carved this stick when he still had his sightMany times he had carried it in the palace, an affectation at a dissolute courtHe had never expected to need it in this wayIts head was the head of an eagle with the eyes lovingly detailed, wide and fiercely defiant
Perhaps because he had killed for the second time in his life that night, Devin was remembering that other much larger barn from the winter just past, in Astibar
This one was far more modestOnly two milk cows and a pair of plow horses stabledIt was well-made though, and warm, with the smell of the animals and clean omega seamaster gold straw
Syndication