pull around a whole heap of chains that the eye can’t see. The other end of ’em is set in the earth, so folks can walk a mile or two, but they just can’t go no further than that. Sometimes the chains are named ‘home’ or ‘belongings,’ and sometimes we call ’em ‘sweetheart’ or ‘memories.’ When we’re young, we try to pull ’em out of the ground, but ten or twenty years go by and those chains just get thicker, and you’ve got more of ’em than ever. And when that happens, all you can do is set yourself down wherever seems proper. Once you do that, those chains start looking like solid gold to the human eye. What most people don’t know is that it’s just a thin layer of gold plating. See, the good Lord made it so humans can’t see ’em for what they really are. You follow what I’m saying? What it comes down to is, people who aren’t like that—whose eyes aren’t clouded, and don’t have a single chain on ’em —they must be made by someone other than God. Now, I wonder who that could be?” And with that she cast an all-knowing gaze directly at D and set her cup down on the table. “I’m sure you’re in a hurry, so I thank you for indulging me in a cup of tea and listening to the ramblings of a foolish old woman. You’d probably cut anyone else’s head off for saying what I did, so I reckon I have bragging rights there.”
“Actually, I’d like to hear about the days when humans and Nobility coexisted,” D said when he finally opened his mouth. “Anything at all. If you’d be so kind as to tell me about that time.”
The old woman squinted a bit and folded her hands on top of the table. After sitting like that for several seconds without moving, she said, “There’s too much to tell. So much that it’d be the same as me not telling you a blessed thing. But the lot of ’em went somewhere far away back when I was just a wee toddler. No one knows whatever became of ’em all. And after that, there was only one time they ever came back—and that was thirty years ago. If something’s going on here now, I suppose that’s the cause. Looks like when you come right down to it, Nobles can’t change what they are.”
“A girl was bitten,” D said. “She sleeps even now, never aging. And as she sleeps, she makes other people dream about me.”
The old woman picked up her cup. When she tipped it to her mouth, the steam seemed to billow from her lips. Pulling the cup the tiniest bit away, she said, “Thirty years ago, that girl was found lying in the woods just north of the village. There was a pair of bite marks on her neck. Truth be known, they were supposed to banish her on the spot, but they didn’t. It’s still anybody’s guess which course of action would’ve been better. And she’d never met you before, is that right?”
D nodded.
Gazing steadily at the Hunter’s face, the old woman continued, “As good as you look, I suppose she’d want to see you even if she couldn’t . But, you know . . .” And then the old woman caught herself.
D didn’t say a word.
“If it was me,” she continued, “and I’d met you a million times, I still wouldn’t want to dream about you because in the end, I’d wind up crying—no two ways about it. I doubt you can find a woman on the Frontier who’s not used to shedding tears, but it doesn’t get any easier—it still hurts just as much every time we do it.”
And yet, Sybille dreamt of him. A man she’d never met.
“What kind of man was the Noble who bit Sybille?”
This time, D’s question brought results.
“There was someone who actually spotted him. Sybille’s grandmother. She passed away twenty years ago, but she used
to tell people every single day how she’d seen him while she was searching for Sybille. Why, she made me listen to it so much I practically needed me a set of earplugs. Yes, he was a giant of a man dressed in black.” And there the old woman stopped. Her eyes held a mysterious spark, and the
“Actually, I’d like to hear about the days when humans and Nobility coexisted,” D said when he finally opened his mouth. “Anything at all. If you’d be so kind as to tell me about that time.”
The old woman squinted a bit and folded her hands on top of the table. After sitting like that for several seconds without moving, she said, “There’s too much to tell. So much that it’d be the same as me not telling you a blessed thing. But the lot of ’em went somewhere far away back when I was just a wee toddler. No one knows whatever became of ’em all. And after that, there was only one time they ever came back—and that was thirty years ago. If something’s going on here now, I suppose that’s the cause. Looks like when you come right down to it, Nobles can’t change what they are.”
“A girl was bitten,” D said. “She sleeps even now, never aging. And as she sleeps, she makes other people dream about me.”
The old woman picked up her cup. When she tipped it to her mouth, the steam seemed to billow from her lips. Pulling the cup the tiniest bit away, she said, “Thirty years ago, that girl was found lying in the woods just north of the village. There was a pair of bite marks on her neck. Truth be known, they were supposed to banish her on the spot, but they didn’t. It’s still anybody’s guess which course of action would’ve been better. And she’d never met you before, is that right?”
D nodded.
Gazing steadily at the Hunter’s face, the old woman continued, “As good as you look, I suppose she’d want to see you even if she couldn’t . But, you know . . .” And then the old woman caught herself.
D didn’t say a word.
“If it was me,” she continued, “and I’d met you a million times, I still wouldn’t want to dream about you because in the end, I’d wind up crying—no two ways about it. I doubt you can find a woman on the Frontier who’s not used to shedding tears, but it doesn’t get any easier—it still hurts just as much every time we do it.”
And yet, Sybille dreamt of him. A man she’d never met.
“What kind of man was the Noble who bit Sybille?”
This time, D’s question brought results.
“There was someone who actually spotted him. Sybille’s grandmother. She passed away twenty years ago, but she used
to tell people every single day how she’d seen him while she was searching for Sybille. Why, she made me listen to it so much I practically needed me a set of earplugs. Yes, he was a giant of a man dressed in black.” And there the old woman stopped. Her eyes held a mysterious spark, and the
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