The Dragon, Bard, and Physician
Images bubble up, unbidden. I can hardly stop them, but when they come I am attentive and tense. Time moves, or it doesn’t move, I no longer know… but I crave these short bursts of light. Sound. Voices…
“You should of had breakfast with me. The mouthful a woman gets in prison is much, much worse.” Or something like that… the images are fuzzy. Indistinct. It’s so hard to focus on it all, but eventually the woman comes up. Gwenith; she’s beautiful enough, and oh-so angry. I always like women when they’re angry — it’s when they’re most likely to say the truth. She’s railing against Lei Varick, who at my command drags her into Ahalin. A private room where I can teach the woman a lesson. I start to rattle her, berate her, call her names…
“You’re just mad because you can’t get it up. Have that problem with your wife much?”
“Don’t speak about that.”
She says something else, but the image flickers. Goes red. It’s all rage, and I’m flailing at her, beating her mouth in, trying to tear her teeth from her skull. Joseph pulls me back, Lei is helping. I left her there, bruised and bloodied…
I receive a letter later from Orban, challenging me to a duel… and it’s off to the poison dealer I go. The image fades — I know what happens next, but I wish they would stay still. It’s better to watch then to dream. Or am I dreaming already?