MoboReader > Fantasy > The Book of Deacon

   Chapter 18 No.18

The Book of Deacon By Joseph R. Lallo Characters: 4691

Updated: 2018-01-19 12:03

Myranda nodded. She tried to picture this thoughtful, helpful gentleman in battle, but it seemed absurd. As her mind wandered, she casually rubbed her sore palm with her right thumb.

"How is it coming?" Leo asked.

"Pardon? Oh, the burn. Very well. Thanks for the advice. It itches a bit, but not nearly as it had yesterday, " she said. In fact, it had recovered so much, she had forgotten to bandage it that morning.

"Let's have a look, " he said, stopping to gently take her hand into his gloved hands. He looked it over thoughtfully. Over the night the redness had all but disappeared, leaving a thin, raised area where the red had been.

"There will be a scar. Two of them. Here and here. If you want to keep them small, leave the bandage off and don't scratch at it, " Leo advised.

"You are starting to sound like my uncle, " she said as he released her hand.

"The man must have given some fine advice, " he said.

The pair continued on.

"So, how long can I expect your company?" Myranda asked hopefully.

"Until I find a decent hunting ground to live off of for a few days. A pine forest will do, " he said.

"I hope we do not find one. I would hate to have to say goodbye, " she said.

"We all say goodbye in time. I always say it is a good bye when we choose it and a bad one when we are forced. As such, I much prefer good byes, " he said. "And besides, I am long overdue

ou speak other languages?" she asked, nearly slipping on an icy track beneath the snow. The pair of gray lines left by a trade wagon was the only things as far as the eye could see that interrupted the canvas of white.

Leo's answer came in the languages he described. First was the slow, flowery dialect of the southern empire, Tressor. These words Myranda understood.

"The glorious tongue of my homeland, " he said in Tresson.

What followed was an odd grouping of syllables spoken in a very clear and precise manner. Myranda racked her mind, but she could not place the sounds.

"I recognized Tresson, but what about the second?" she asked.

"Just a silly little language I learned from the fellow who taught me to handle a sword properly, " he explained. "Your guess is as good as mine as to where that verbiage originates."

"Well, you spoke Tresson wonderfully. Tell me, do you remember much of Tressor?" she asked.

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