the dreamers of the day are dangerous men, for they may act on their dreams with open eyes...
Morning of 21st June
It's still raining, though not as heavily as earlier, but I couldn't wait any longer to come out here and see what has happened. I was wakened in the early hours of Sunday by a strange feeling of pressure and brilliant light, but my cell was completely dark. I walked through the abbey, and all was still and shadowed. Anyone else ( Read more... )
It's still raining, though not as heavily as earlier, but I couldn't wait any longer to come out here and see what has happened. I was wakened in the early hours of Sunday by a strange feeling of pressure and brilliant light, but my cell was completely dark. I walked through the abbey, and all was still and shadowed. Anyone else ( Read more... )
"I'm sorry; I thought you were someone else."
"No harm done," I say, as warmly as one can when talking loud enough to be heard at some distance over the low rushing hiss of rain. I wonder who she's mistaken me for. While I don't exactly stick out everywhere I go, my Continental features don't usually lend themselves to cases of mistaken identity half a world from the land of my birth. Another traveler, perhaps?
The other woman stands up then, and she is taller than I expected, not far from my height. It is her footprints I am standing in, unless the other woman has someone else's shoes on and a pocket full of rocks. When she speaks, her consonants tend to leap over vowels entirely and mash each other together, so it takes me a moment to adjust.
"Ain't seen you 'round b'fore. New'n town?"
She has somewhat placed herself between the other woman and me, which makes me wonder about the connection between them. Perhaps it will become clear in time. Regardless, the last thing I want to do is to spook anyone. "Indeed, madam. I've been here less than a week. I have a bed in the dormitory at the Whitechapel." I sketch a small formal bow when I introduce myself. "Samuel Durand, Friar Observant," I say, bringing the rosary to my lips briefly. "But I hope you'll just call me Samuel. Or Brother Samuel, some prefer."
I take a couple of slow strides closer, still matching steps. I'd really rather move off to one side, but I don't want to disturb more of the area than I have to until I get to the seemingly untouched middle. "It seems like half the town's on edge about whatever happened here, so I thought I'd come take a look. I have certain skills that I hoped might be of use."
Reply
Reply
She's at least the third person since my arrival to openly express surprise that I didn't seek shelter at the abbey. I sometimes wonder if such places are less retreats devoted to lofty pursuits than colonies of a certain sort of leper. It's not just that those like my own order shut out the outside: in another sense, it's as though the world is happier to have walled them away. "I spent a lot of my young life cloistered, but I've spent many years traveling, and to be honest, I'm in no hurry to be put walls between myself and the world again. I do intend to pay my proper respects one day soon."
She introduces herself as Noma, and the other, gruffer woman gives her name as Syl. "Noma. Syl." I taste the names as I say them, committing them to memory. "Good to meet you both."
They ask after the skills I mentioned, and I brush wet hair back from my face. "I certainly didn't want that to come across as arrogant. Meant only that perhaps I can be of service." A thin finger of cold water makes its way down my neck. "I've a scientific education, knowledge of woodscraft, and a number of experiences that could prove salient."
We are joined by another person, and I bow my head politely in greeting. "Does anyone know if there were actual witnesses to the event?"
Reply
Reply
Leave a comment