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   Chapter 93 No.93

The Book of Deacon By Joseph R. Lallo Characters: 5244

Updated: 2018-01-19 19:02

"I don't want you to do this for me, " he said.

"Believe me, I have only the most selfish of reasons at heart, " she said with a grin.

"This is wonderful. This is exceptional! My first student. There is so much to do! I have to prepare a lesson plan, I have to create trials, " he said, rising quickly from his seat. "It is such a wide area, I. . . I don't know where to begin!"

He fumbled through his bag with one hand and felt at his ear with the other.

"Where is my book? Where is my stylus? What a time to lose them!" he said, fairly in a tizzy.

"They are on the desk, " she said, amused at the stir she had caused.

"Yes, of course, of course, and at work, too. Blast it, I knew I should have made two of those, " he said.

"I think you are the one who needs to calm down now, " Myranda said.

"Oh, I can't! Not now, not now! This is momentous! This is important!" he said. "Finally an apprentice!"


The time passed quickly as Deacon raved about what sort of things he had in store. There was something about his sudden enthusiasm that betrayed similarities between he and Myranda. It was clear that he had been every bit an outsider in his own way as she had been in the outside world. Finally finding someone willing to share time with him seemed to be more than he could handle. The longer they spoke, the clearer it became how deeply involved he was with his studies. As they spoke, they laughed more and more. It was even enough to convince Myn to lower her guard, though she made her presence known whenever he took a step too near to

there these days?" she said, mockingly.

The dragon sat on his haunches and raised one hand-like paw. A small flame sparked into existence below it.

"Turn your mind to the flame, " he said.

Myranda set her eyes on the flickering form. Slowly, the world pulled away, and the yellow-orange shape filled her mind. She gathered her entire consciousness about the flame, her mind shifting and turning with the slightest motion of the fire. Time was meaningless in such a trance; hours and seconds were interchangeable. Suddenly, the voice of Solomon broke through.

"The fire is like a living thing. Once it is born, it requires only food and breath to grow and multiply. It constantly hungers. Can you feel it?" the powerful voice spoke.

Her instructor's words were far too clear and distinct to have come from the outside world. It was as though he had willed his voice into her mind and mingled it with her thoughts. She pored over the fire with her mind and slowly became aware of a constant and steady draw. The hunger he spoke of.

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