To Blake Caplin, a message

To Blake Caplin, a message

Postby Rance » Mon Dec 03, 2012 8:52 am

Not everything needed to be dictated. Not everything needed to have business to it.

The seamstress had scraped lines through the wrong words all morning, and if there was something the young woman hated being, it was wrong. Only when she was sick of the little note, written on the back of a page from Voice, Melody, and Man -- a book Rhaena would surely demand she pay for with how greatly she had abused it -- did Gloria Wynsee fold it. She stuffed it into the pocket of her skirts next to a tiny bit of cooked chicken wrapped in wax parchment.

She went to the stables just after sunrise. She tucked the note in a crease between two boards of the stable doors, and if its proper recipient were to ever find it, he would find the text hard-written, scribbled like a child's scrawl, frantic, but ever-afraid of being improper.

to blaik kaplen, dear messa,

it is with grate consurn that i rite to you today reguardeng our insidint a weak or so ago, ware-in i became privey to a vary pakulier ecksperiance that maid me neer sick with dread, i no that it was not your indent to fryten me but i to hoap i it is permessable to hafe flawes the likes of wich may make me kwick to startel,

i was inpolite to snap at you and hoap you wil be willeng to meat with me at the BROKIN DAGGAR so that we may speak,

i fear i may be carreing a seacret of the utmoast dangir for tho i do not know anytheng valuable, you see, i am ritely unsettuled at beeng an unwilleng seakret- keeper,

mite that wood see you soon and you will forgift me for being a stupid afraid girl, your fren, glorea


And on the other side of the paper, printed in fine calligraphy by the scribe who had spent many years transcribing copy upon copy of the book of Myrken poetry, was a lyric poem written in clear Standard. It was not a well-written poem, and perhaps that was why the printed page was used for small notes to scarred stableboys.

From one root grew two flowers
burst from their seed like
impatience empowered
and showed to the world a
double-blossom tower
that
bent to star and prayed to sun
and
wore a new face when one was done
that
poisoned bees with wretched nectar
and
turned to tears what once was laughter
and lied to man and kin thereafter
for
from one root grew two flowers
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Rance
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