A Writer’s Book of Days Exercise: Question

When I awoke the next morning, the scent of smoke had been smoothed away by the rain. The fallen water eased the tension of the battle before. Guards on the walls joked with one another, using puddles of rain water to clean the soot and blood from their faces.

And here I thought my people had short memories.

Desian’s hand was bandaged, his fingers curved toward his injured palm. The king gave it no more attention than any of the other wounds that covered her advisor. She was too intent on his description of my master’s defeat.

I was listening with interest as well, especially to his account of how we came to be in front of him, and how, exactly, he was beaten. Desian was light on the details, blaming a fear I knew he had never felt for the poorness of his memory.

The king didn’t look like she believed it anymore than I did. “You are certain he cannot return?” Though she faced Desian, her eyes were on me.

“As certain as can be, for now,” he answered her.

“For now?”

Desian licked hip cracked lips, and looked at the ground. “The opening in the Plains has been damaged, but not destroyed.” His shoulders tensed as we waited for the inevitable question.

How do you know?

When she spoke, the question was addressed to both of us. “What do we do?”



by | Feb 11, 2011

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