ED -- In Darkness Chained.
Yuletide schmuletide -- this is the story that has me on fire right now.
Standard warnings about spoilers.
The next day, to Fletcher Dawson's surprise when he peered through the view slot he found Skyler out of bed and doing some of his morning exercises and stretches. He rapped on the door and entered. "Mr. Chapman said to bring you this." He set a box and a lighted lantern down mid way on the floor and stepped back.
Skyler strode over, slowly and stiffly picked up the lantern and said, "Hmmph. Horn, not glass. They really do think of everything here."
"We don't want suicides."
Skyler shot him a wry look as he knelt to examine the contents of the box and said, "Doesn't it all end in suicide in these cells. The only path out these doors pretty much leads straight to the gallows."
Fletcher chose not to mention that sometimes (but very rarely) prisoners were found innocent. He didn't want to give Skyler unreasonable hope. The innocent were swiftly found out in the Eternal Dungeon, and Skyler ... well, he had never once brought up the topic of innocence. In answer to Skyler's statement he said, "It's not suicide. It's going for rebirth. It's different."
"Really?" Skyler snorted contemptuously. "Seems more like a matter of what's for whatever arbitrary reason, sanctioned. A matter of accepted forms. One's got the seal of approval, but the other, accomplishing the same thing, really, does not."
"It's different," Fletcher replied, frustrated. "Your soul is ready to be reborn, so of course you've got to cast the flesh off to start your new life. It's -- I'm not explaining it right. Mr. Chapman is much better --"
"Oh I'm sure he is."
Fletcher rolled his eyes and continued, "Mr. Chapman is much better than I am. It makes sense when he tells you about it."
Skyler nodded, but Fletcher could see that it was just to placate him. He sighed.
During the conversation, Skyler had emptied the box of its contents: a stack of ivory colored card stock, a pencil, a bottle of indelible ink, several brushes of various sizes, a lap desk, a bowl, a palette, and a small case of watercolors -- the kind typically given to young primary school children, all of the pigments non poisonous.
"Mr. Chapman thought it might be good for your mind you to have this stuff."
Skyler said, "It's a lot more than I asked for, actually. Thank Mr. Chapman for me."
He picked up the lantern and set it on the sleeping bench, put a sheet of the cardstock on the lapdesk, picked up the pencil, paused thoughtfully, then set to work.
"What are you making?" Fletcher asked after the silence stretched too long.
"The 22 keys of a Diviner's Deck." Skyler did not look up from his drawing.
Oh. "I guess that's why all of this talk about rebirth has no effect on you."
"Something like that. I don't have quite the orthodox view on such things." A smile tugged at the edge of Skyler's mouth.
Pause. "Sit down, Mr. Dawson."
"It's not permitted."
"I'm going to get a kink in my neck if I have to look up at you and I'm in enough pain already." His voice hardened. "So sit down."
"Mr. Chapman's going to have my hide if I get caught." Fletcher slowly sank down.
"If Mr. Chapman has you disciplined for giving in to a reasonable request from a prisoner, I shall lose any respect I have for the man."
Fletcher studied Skyler for several moments. In the past weeks he had seen a lot of this prisoner engage in a lot of manipulative behavior, but somehow -- he couldn't quite put his finger on it -- he thought that Skyler actually meant it. "You're serious, aren't you?"
"Yup."
Afraid that Skyler might turn the conversation to the topic of Mr. Chapman and the other Seekers, Fletcher decided to take the topic back to this Diviner's Deck of Mr. Skyler's.
"So, what are you drawing, exactly?"
"I am drawing the first of the 22. The Magician. Which, amongst other things, represents the path of creation. Seems like the right place to start, no?"
Standard warnings about spoilers.
The next day, to Fletcher Dawson's surprise when he peered through the view slot he found Skyler out of bed and doing some of his morning exercises and stretches. He rapped on the door and entered. "Mr. Chapman said to bring you this." He set a box and a lighted lantern down mid way on the floor and stepped back.
Skyler strode over, slowly and stiffly picked up the lantern and said, "Hmmph. Horn, not glass. They really do think of everything here."
"We don't want suicides."
Skyler shot him a wry look as he knelt to examine the contents of the box and said, "Doesn't it all end in suicide in these cells. The only path out these doors pretty much leads straight to the gallows."
Fletcher chose not to mention that sometimes (but very rarely) prisoners were found innocent. He didn't want to give Skyler unreasonable hope. The innocent were swiftly found out in the Eternal Dungeon, and Skyler ... well, he had never once brought up the topic of innocence. In answer to Skyler's statement he said, "It's not suicide. It's going for rebirth. It's different."
"Really?" Skyler snorted contemptuously. "Seems more like a matter of what's for whatever arbitrary reason, sanctioned. A matter of accepted forms. One's got the seal of approval, but the other, accomplishing the same thing, really, does not."
"It's different," Fletcher replied, frustrated. "Your soul is ready to be reborn, so of course you've got to cast the flesh off to start your new life. It's -- I'm not explaining it right. Mr. Chapman is much better --"
"Oh I'm sure he is."
Fletcher rolled his eyes and continued, "Mr. Chapman is much better than I am. It makes sense when he tells you about it."
Skyler nodded, but Fletcher could see that it was just to placate him. He sighed.
During the conversation, Skyler had emptied the box of its contents: a stack of ivory colored card stock, a pencil, a bottle of indelible ink, several brushes of various sizes, a lap desk, a bowl, a palette, and a small case of watercolors -- the kind typically given to young primary school children, all of the pigments non poisonous.
"Mr. Chapman thought it might be good for your mind you to have this stuff."
Skyler said, "It's a lot more than I asked for, actually. Thank Mr. Chapman for me."
He picked up the lantern and set it on the sleeping bench, put a sheet of the cardstock on the lapdesk, picked up the pencil, paused thoughtfully, then set to work.
"What are you making?" Fletcher asked after the silence stretched too long.
"The 22 keys of a Diviner's Deck." Skyler did not look up from his drawing.
Oh. "I guess that's why all of this talk about rebirth has no effect on you."
"Something like that. I don't have quite the orthodox view on such things." A smile tugged at the edge of Skyler's mouth.
Pause. "Sit down, Mr. Dawson."
"It's not permitted."
"I'm going to get a kink in my neck if I have to look up at you and I'm in enough pain already." His voice hardened. "So sit down."
"Mr. Chapman's going to have my hide if I get caught." Fletcher slowly sank down.
"If Mr. Chapman has you disciplined for giving in to a reasonable request from a prisoner, I shall lose any respect I have for the man."
Fletcher studied Skyler for several moments. In the past weeks he had seen a lot of this prisoner engage in a lot of manipulative behavior, but somehow -- he couldn't quite put his finger on it -- he thought that Skyler actually meant it. "You're serious, aren't you?"
"Yup."
Afraid that Skyler might turn the conversation to the topic of Mr. Chapman and the other Seekers, Fletcher decided to take the topic back to this Diviner's Deck of Mr. Skyler's.
"So, what are you drawing, exactly?"
"I am drawing the first of the 22. The Magician. Which, amongst other things, represents the path of creation. Seems like the right place to start, no?"