Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [Pitzar] An End... Message-ID: <1993Apr19.024241.11243@organpipe.uug.arizona.edu> From: corleyj@argon.gas.uug.arizona.edu (Jason D Corley ) Date: 19 Apr 93 02:42:41 GMT I spent the night in an alley halfway up the Arcade of Unforgotten Heroes. The statues hadn't seemed to have been touched at all by the storm. I didn't sleep. I spent the night staring at the cobbles, counting them slowly. The next morning I crawled up out of the muck, brushed myself off and knocked on the door to the Temple of Aditi. "How can I serve?" the girl at the door asked. "May I see Lady Delmara, please?" I said, trying not to meet her gaze. She nodded, and let me in. She didn't say anything about the way I looked. Lady Delmara settled herself down in the chair across from me. "Good morning, sir." "Hi." "How may I serve you?" she asked. I unslung my knapsack. The sudden movement made her flinch. I wondered exactly how many times she had been hurt, or hurt herself, because of her religion. I pulled a mass of damp parchment from the knapsack and grabbed a quill, too. I looked at her closely. She had relaxed again, and looked very at ease, comfortable, and desirable. "I'm from the Examiner", I said. "Could you answer a few questions for me?" "As you wish." she said. "Where did you get the money to build a new Low Town?" Her face was impassive. "I can't tell you that." I looked at her. "Was it a parishoner? A regular? Did you know him? Male or female?" Her face twitched again. "I can't tell you." The pen scritched to a halt on the page. I knew what I should do. I should thank her for her time and stand up and walk out. Just stand up and walk away from her and the temple. But I didn't do that. I didn't walk away. "Tell me." I said, my voice filled with a sudden anger, the anger of two days building quickly. She shook her head, staring at me suddenly. "N..I can't." I tried to keep my voice even, but it sounded too loud in the small room, "Tell me who gave you the money." Her mouth opened, but no sound came out. I leaned forwards as I got to my feet. She still sat there, she looked so strange, this strong, beautiful, confident woman cowering in her chair. It was my turn to be left speechless. "Sorry." I said, and coughed. "Sorry." I left quickly. Outside the sun blazed down and made my eyeballs hurt. I was breathing heavily. I looked out from the top of the temple steps across midtown. The city was alive, moving around. And it was moving around without me in it. Everything I once had, disappeared in a few words and a single storm. "Sure, I'll cover the Blackhawk story for you..." and a lance of lightning coming down from the sky right into the heart of the city. My city. My heart. And it was like I had never been here, never stepped in the muddy streets. My footprints were gone. The bottle in my desk was broken. And Dawn... I knew what I should do. And I did it. I stepped into the office and I guess I had a look in my eye, because Steve took out a sympathetic parchment and laid it on the top of the desk. I stuck my head into Heartwell's office. He had some third-rate noble up against the ropes. "See you around, Mr. Heartwell." He started to say something. I just looked at him ans said "Steve can clean out my office." Heartwell looked at me and said, "All right." I left Generica. I split from the whole fucking city. There was a long road towards a horizon and a sky filled with stars right outside that gate. And I knew, somehow, that I wouldn't be any happier there. But at least I wouldn't be back there. In the city. A city of pain and a hundred thousand memories, of chances that someone offered you once that you didn't take. As I my boots touched the mud outside the city, 12 more on horseback rode in. They were all talking excitedly. They were all seeking their fortune in the big city. As I watched them, they disappeared around a corner and soon I couldn't hear them in the low humming of the city. Generica goes on, sure. But it goes on without me. ********************************* At the _Examiner_, in Old Man Heartwell's office, there is a box. Inside this box are 15 scrolls of parchment, the receiving end of 15 other scrolls that receive information from correspondants all over Generica and the world. One of them has no name at the top. Sometimes Heartwell picks up that scroll, unfolds it carefully, squints in the dim light of an oil lamp for any words, then closes it up and returns it to the box. It is always blank. [ADMIN: I am leaving the net indefinitely. The Generican Examiner is now open property. And when Jake comes back, I come back. Simple as that. ;-) ] -- ****************************************************************************** "The difference between the military and the Boy Scouts of America is the Boy Scouts are allowed to carry knives and they have adult leadership."--Anon. Jason D. "corleyj@gas.uug.arizona.edu" Corley might have posted this.