Burchal, but he kept his attention split between the storyteller and the guard.
“… and then, one day, a scholar from Cloisonyt arrived in Nacliano. At first, no one even knew he had come to the city, for he repaired to the House of Scholars, but, in time, he began to visit the harbor and to teach some of the women to read, and one of those women was the young wife of Burchal, who was a beautiful girl from outside of Cheva. She could not read and begged the old scholar, and he was old, with hair of silver and a kind face, to teach her to read and to do her numbers so that she could help her husband with the household accounts.” The bookseller laughed ironically. “And from that day was Burchal’s happiness diminished, for the young woman was bright as well as beautiful, and she began to read, and then to look at the account books of the household, and then at another account book.” The bookseller shook his head. “Then she disappeared, never to be seen again, and one week to the day later, a great fire burned down the House of Scholars, and all the scholars within were said to have perished, including the old scholar who had taught the girl to read.” The bookseller stopped.
“That’s it? And no one has done anything?”
“What else would there be to say?” asked the bookseller. “The House of Scholars burned, and there are no scholars left in Nacliano.”
“Or none who dare call themselves scholars,” replied Quaeryt.
“One who does not acknowledge who and what he is cannot claim to be such, can he?”
“That is a point many have debated, including Rholan, who said that a name did not equal deeds.”
“Perhaps I should have said that one who neither acknowledges who or what he is nor acts as such cannot claim to be what he believes himself to be.”
Quaeryt nodded. “I prefer to believe that acts rather than words define the man … or woman.”
The bookseller laughed, a sound soft but ironic and edged with a hint of bitterness. “You are neither innocent enough nor cynical enough, for all acts come from words.”
“Perhaps,” said Quaeryt, easing himself from the stool, “but the words need not come from the one who acts, nor the deeds from the one who speaks.” He smiled. “It is always better when someone else tells the story.”
“I take it you have no interest in purchasing a book?”
“A traveler should only purchase books when he is home and can provide for them.” Quaeryt bowed. “I thank you for the story.”
“And I for your patience.”
Despite the apparent politeness of the bookseller, Quaeryt remained ill at ease on the entire walk back to the Tankard, not because he doubted the story, but because he believed it … as well as what had not been said, but suggested, and not spoken, by the bookseller himself. More than that, the hidden semi-parable about the woman who learned to read and what came of it bothered him as well, especially in light of the missive from Vaelora sealed within the document case.
14
Again on Jeudi, Quaeryt rose and ate early, and plied Lily with another three coppers to save the garret chamber for yet another night. Unlike the previous day, he immediately headed toward the harbor Patrol building. He reached there even before the patrollers going on duty left the building. Duultyn and his partner were among the last to leave, and they headed in the direction of the Sailrigger.
Using his concealment shield, Quaeryt followed more closely. After several days, he was beginning to understand the rougher Tellan of the east more clearly.
“… never said what happened last night…”
“She wasn’t there. Old lady Shaalya took me into every room in the place.”
“Then she’s gone.”
Duultyn shook his head. “Just for now. She’ll be back. Then she’ll pay. More than she wants.”
“Your uncle said not to—”
“I told him that she’d been seeing that scholar we chased.”
“Oh … still don’t understand what he has against
“… and then, one day, a scholar from Cloisonyt arrived in Nacliano. At first, no one even knew he had come to the city, for he repaired to the House of Scholars, but, in time, he began to visit the harbor and to teach some of the women to read, and one of those women was the young wife of Burchal, who was a beautiful girl from outside of Cheva. She could not read and begged the old scholar, and he was old, with hair of silver and a kind face, to teach her to read and to do her numbers so that she could help her husband with the household accounts.” The bookseller laughed ironically. “And from that day was Burchal’s happiness diminished, for the young woman was bright as well as beautiful, and she began to read, and then to look at the account books of the household, and then at another account book.” The bookseller shook his head. “Then she disappeared, never to be seen again, and one week to the day later, a great fire burned down the House of Scholars, and all the scholars within were said to have perished, including the old scholar who had taught the girl to read.” The bookseller stopped.
“That’s it? And no one has done anything?”
“What else would there be to say?” asked the bookseller. “The House of Scholars burned, and there are no scholars left in Nacliano.”
“Or none who dare call themselves scholars,” replied Quaeryt.
“One who does not acknowledge who and what he is cannot claim to be such, can he?”
“That is a point many have debated, including Rholan, who said that a name did not equal deeds.”
“Perhaps I should have said that one who neither acknowledges who or what he is nor acts as such cannot claim to be what he believes himself to be.”
Quaeryt nodded. “I prefer to believe that acts rather than words define the man … or woman.”
The bookseller laughed, a sound soft but ironic and edged with a hint of bitterness. “You are neither innocent enough nor cynical enough, for all acts come from words.”
“Perhaps,” said Quaeryt, easing himself from the stool, “but the words need not come from the one who acts, nor the deeds from the one who speaks.” He smiled. “It is always better when someone else tells the story.”
“I take it you have no interest in purchasing a book?”
“A traveler should only purchase books when he is home and can provide for them.” Quaeryt bowed. “I thank you for the story.”
“And I for your patience.”
Despite the apparent politeness of the bookseller, Quaeryt remained ill at ease on the entire walk back to the Tankard, not because he doubted the story, but because he believed it … as well as what had not been said, but suggested, and not spoken, by the bookseller himself. More than that, the hidden semi-parable about the woman who learned to read and what came of it bothered him as well, especially in light of the missive from Vaelora sealed within the document case.
14
Again on Jeudi, Quaeryt rose and ate early, and plied Lily with another three coppers to save the garret chamber for yet another night. Unlike the previous day, he immediately headed toward the harbor Patrol building. He reached there even before the patrollers going on duty left the building. Duultyn and his partner were among the last to leave, and they headed in the direction of the Sailrigger.
Using his concealment shield, Quaeryt followed more closely. After several days, he was beginning to understand the rougher Tellan of the east more clearly.
“… never said what happened last night…”
“She wasn’t there. Old lady Shaalya took me into every room in the place.”
“Then she’s gone.”
Duultyn shook his head. “Just for now. She’ll be back. Then she’ll pay. More than she wants.”
“Your uncle said not to—”
“I told him that she’d been seeing that scholar we chased.”
“Oh … still don’t understand what he has against
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