Jay Lake (jaylake) wrote,
Jay Lake
jaylake

Work in progress

And so he set out, clothed in silk and dignity and the armor of assurance that all youth carry. He turned his back on the Lemon Palace, on the Great Bay of Sunheel, on the fish and birds and women that had made his youth so easy and pleasurable. He did not even think to take a blade with him, for no one on the shores of the Great Bay had ever spat on his shadow or called him spawn of a tyrant or sought to cut his purse or take his fig. Truly, he had no sense of what the world might be.

He walked the shadowed trade road, passing out of his father's realm and into the world beyond, where clouds lay low and fat-bellied across drowned farmland and desperate men with rusty knives prowled the dusk and women carried in their sweetpockets the burning itch and firepiss. Mile by mile, day by day, cut by cut, failure by failure, he learned the folly of his longings. But when the day came that sense trumped pride, he could not find the way home.
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