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The next day, I caught Sharp outside the solar. I wrote on my slate, "Have you ever seen a fountain of fire in the Shadowlands?"
"What?" He laughed.
I wiped the slate with my sleeve and wrote, "What do you see when you walk in the Shadowlands?"
"See?" His smile was half-puzzled, half-amused. "I don’t see anything, save what is in front of my eyes. I just play as I think about the problem, and eventually I work out a solution. You should keep your mind on your work, child – or you’ll never be a Bard!"
"I doubt that will ever worry me again," I curtly signed back.
His face screwed up in puzzlement. "You need to write that out for me."
Just then Lord Reinard stepped out of the solar, his fists clenching and unclenching. "What did you say to Daniel?"
How dare he accuse me of speaking? My hands flew into motion. "I merely played for him, in the hope that it would help him to feel better. He looked quite ill."
My lord snorted. "Ill? He’s well enough, now. Well enough to travel. He left for Saint William’s Monastery without telling anyone. There was only a note on his bed, stating that he is dedicating the rest of his life to the glory of God."
A better use for his life than withering with bitterness. I wished him well. "And his daughter?"
"She went with him. I hope she has sense enough not to commit herself to a nunnery." He ran a hand through his wild, blond hair. "I should go after them and prevent these foolish choices."
The only valid path is the one chosen for oneself. I touched my lord’s arm, then signed, "May I play my latest composition for you?"
Friday, July 10, 2009
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