The Paradise of Silence; and Silence Broken.

The Paradise of Silence; and Silence Broken.

Postby channe » Thu Aug 27, 2015 6:45 pm

It has been months -- a year? -- since the Wormwoman has been seen in public.

The rest of her family, of course, has been out and around; Dominik to his building projects, Magda to the market, Otto to his apprenticeship at the livery stables, with an admiring eye on a girl he sees every morning at a bakery; the children attend a farm school, and are growing like weeds, entering apprenticeship programs, being credits to their name. There are new Kaczmareks, of course. There are always new Kaczmareks. In a few years, some of the worshipers at Istota Gora say, the entire northern farm area will be a Kaczmarek, or related to a Kaczmarek. Perhaps that is why most have forgotten about her. Perhaps they think her fled; perhaps, just perhaps, the people in Myrkentown said, perhaps Catch finally got her.

It was public knowledge that Agnieszka and her husband, the scholar and magician Aleksei River, had moved to a very small farm on a back-switch road not far from Istota Gora. At first, they would come and go only to the gora, trading and speaking only with the worshipers there, One God congregants of a particularly Dauntless bent. After a month or two, they even stopped showing up for worship.

Until now.

There have been tales of Agnieszka River's arrival at the town market on Monday afternoons at four-fifteen precisely, just as the market is about to start closing up for the day. She -- but not her husband -- has also been seen at Istota Gora. She's pregnant now, one washerwoman said; at least six months. One of the militiamen said that she still had the beautiful green crystal sword she was carrying during the last days of the Lady. A baker said that she didn't even say a word during her visit to the market; just bought her things, and left. A butcher -- one who knew the Kaczmarek family -- said that Agnieszka had looked at him with eyes full of hate, and that he'd felt a chill going down his back --

Well, what do you expect? said the butcher's wife, whapping him with her towel. We ran the girl out, and after all she did for us. That poor girl.

That poor girl, bah, said the basketweaver next door. She deserves what she got.

I don't know, said the butcher's wife. I don't think anyone deserves that. And I don't like the way she looked at me. I don't know -- if I were her, I'd want revenge.

The basketweaver laughed. Revenge? What can she do? I don't care that she was once on the Council, or was over her station waving that sword around and telling the militia what to do! She's a pregnant wife now, no better than the rest of us! All of her kind should be run out!

The butcher's wife laughed, of course, as anyone would.

What can she do?
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channe
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