Dead Letter by Benjamin Descovich Page A

she had given him. He thought of all she must have learned
from the magnificent depository of knowledge held in the Great
Library. Such a joy it must be to wield magic. Such a pleasure to
have time to read all day long.
    By the
time the young man had finished the night’s work, his body was
tired, but his mind was awash with arcane fantasies. His home
wasn’t far up Flint Street and the night air cooled the sweat of
the long day. Candlelight fortified the second floor window and he
saw his mother’s silhouette walk by the window. The stairs up to
their small flat allowed him to announce his coming with each
footfall. He tried to be as conspicuous as possible, so as not to
startle his mother. Before he could fetch his key, the door opened
and Elrin was greeted by his mother’s loving eyes and warm
embrace.
    “ Oh, you’re drenched in sweat. Come on in before you get a
chill.”
    “ It’s almost dragon season, Mother. There is no chill to
catch.”
    Sitting
at the living room table was a man robed in grey. “How was your
day, young sir?”
    “ Long, Herder Kleith. Very long.” Elrin gave his mother a
quick look, trying to discern if it was a good day or one of her
bad days. His mother’s eyes answered with a glint of gaiety rarely
seen and sorely missed. Elrin’s heart ached knowing it would be
short-lived. Her good spirits would be snuffed by damp melancholia
before the new day’s egg was boiled. If they had an egg to
breakfast on, that is. “Has your day been … taxing?”
    Herder
Kleith took Elrin’s meaning and answered in a code they had
established over the years regarding his mother’s state of mind.
“Actually today has been a bright one. A day for thanks. Your
mother and I have been talking of the future.”
    This is
where it would all crumble into the five hells. Elrin averted his
eyes from Kleith and his mother, bracing for the news he had been
dreading. “That sounds ominous,” said Elrin, removing his boots and
placing them by the door.
    Elrin’s Mother stood behind the priest of Nathis and rested
her hand on his shoulder. “Kleith asked me to … asked us to join him at the
Gold Gate Market for the Surrender Moon. We’ll take in the air and
join the singing and dancing. The young men will be courting and
you’re sure to catch yourself a dance or ten. You dance so well.
Wouldn’t that be nice?”
    Thank
the gods! Kleith hadn’t proposed. “That’s more than nice. Kleith,
you are very generous to offer us an invitation.”
    “ Won’t this be lovely! Just like when …” Her eyes drew distant
and a tear took to her cheek. She removed her hand from the
Kleith’s shoulder and walked to her son.
    “ Like when Elrin was a boy, Penellonine?” suggested Kleith,
trying to steer the conversation away from the inevitable memory of
her lost love, Elrin’s father.
    “ Yes … when he was a boy, that is what I was thinking.”
Elrin’s mother touched his cheek. “Though you are no such boy any
longer; strong and capable and working so hard. He works hard,
doesn’t he, Kleith?”
    “ Yes. Yes, he does.”
    “ Oh! He’d make such a fine guildsman. Who could deny
him?”
    She was
insanely hopeful that a guild would consider her nameless son. For
his mother it was either hope without reason or dreadful melancholy
because of his father’s absence. Elrin hated the thought that he
preferred the later. Guild law was explicit and immovable and
bringing up such delirious nonsense infuriated him. Only the Order
of Calim took on the nameless, and only if they were gifted. He
couldn’t magic a bean to bounce — as much as he had tried. It was
easy for the famous Bardess Penellonine to imagine greatness upon
him, but he would never amount to what his mother wished for.
“Please excuse me. I must wash.”
    Elrin
retreated behind a curtain in the tiny kitchen and disrobed. The
cool water in the washbasin soothed his aching muscles. He wet down
his olive skin and lathered just enough soap to clean