Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn
From: gujn@uniwa.uwa.edu.au (Jeremy Nelson)
Subject: Zia [inn]: A small Story
Message-ID: <1992Jun21.164116.16313@uniwa.uwa.edu.au>
Date: Sun, 21 Jun 1992 16:41:16 GMT

[Lancos, Kadrys, Zia]

Zia looks at Kadrys for a while, then looks away with no change of
expression.  Or maybe she looks a little more tired.  She stares blankly
at the soup which Kadrys acured for her.

She sits up and stares into the fire for some moments before beginning
to speak.  At first she speaks quietly, but her voice strengthens till
it is more audible.  She speaks without emotion, all the while staring
into the fire.

"There once was a girl.  Pretty many said, clever without a doubt.
Sparky.  Moments when she was extraordinary.  She was clever with her
hands.  She had a wonderful eye for the world.  She would have made a
great artist.

But she didn't.  She met a man, who she love in with.  He was a fine
man.  A dedicated warrior, but not so indecent that as to forget her.
He did not return her affections in the same measure, but neither did he spurn
them.  He returned all the affection he felt he could honestly.  He was, above
all, honest.

He supported them, even comfortably at times.  She rarely went without,
although the one thing she did have to go without was children.  He had
vowed not to bring children into this world, so they did not.

And they lived their lives.  She lived a long life and died of old age, with
him by her side."

She stares at the fire, for a long time.  Then abruptly she continues.

"I met a man once who could fold paper most wonderfully.  He would form
shapes from squares which had lives of their own.  I asked him how to
learn, and he told me that with patience I could learn it too, he would
show me.  I asked him how long he had taken to learn.  He said he had
been doing it for more than seventy years.  Such was his fame that the
kings of the day would call him to present himself for their amusement.
And such was his fortune, that he never once in his life was called upon
to do manual labour.  He folded paper for his whole life.  And counted
himself fortunate.

There was a temple on the East coast of a continet far from here,
dedicated to a God which few now even know existed, which had over a
thousand priests in its hey day.  At the height of it's fame a small
city grew around it, one rare to see.  Artists gathered, and the
scholars of the day made it the intellectual centre of the
country.

But, do you know: there were more washer women in that city than
scholars?  Even at the best of times, there were more women who washed
clothes than the gathered mass of artists, and scholars and priests."

She finally breaks away her stare from the fire and looks blanky at
Lancos before continuing.  She looks back at the fire.

"I met a swordsman once.  I asked him where he was going, and he told me
there was a war brewing to the south, where he hoped to be hired.  I
asked him what the war was about, and he started to answer that one army
had invaded another land and... and...."

She stops for a moment.

"...and... then he told be he didn't really know.  And then he 
said that he did not know exactly why he was fighting anymore, for he
had skills other than sword play.  And then he cried."

She seems even more tired and looks at Lancos before saying,

"One more story.  One more story and I will answer any question you ask
me.  One more story.

I met a wizard.  The wizard was most certainly the most powerful in the
land.  But the wizard was crying.  And when I asked why, the wizard
said, 'Becuase I no longer have any questions.'  And although I knew the
wizard had not answered every question that could be asked, I knew what
the wizard meant."

She sips at the soup and chokes slightly before she starts coughing
madly.  She pulls out a garishly coloured handkerchief and coughs into
it for a minute before staring at the pattern and laughing.

She looks at Lancos for a moment before saying in a more normal voice,
"So what was your question, I seem to have forgotten it...?"

"...and I have a question for you.  What do you most regret?"


-- 
Jem.  Jeremy Nelson.  gujn@uniwa.uwa.edu.au
I fear two things: 
That I am not one of the most interesting people in the world... and that I am.