Bitterness filled her heart and soul, as Si'Wren clutched her beautiful
ivory marking sticks with unseen fingers and hung her head in grief,
staring blurrily down at the splashes of her tears like mythical
'raindrops' upon the dull smooth unevenness of the stones.
This strange Invisible God had suffered a speechless one to 'speak'
through clay tablets, to an Emperor whose ears were perpetually
deafened by the turbulent but illiterate praises of the crowds.
It was a hard-won 'miracle', her speechless literacy, considering the
mortal sufferings she had endured under Ibi's sage tutelage to bring it
to pass. For the sake of God, if not her past miseries, she would have
a thing or two to inscribe for her Emperor's pleasure, along the way.
She would consult her own broken heart in the instruction of his stony
one, that it should burn within him to hear more of the truth about the
Invisible One, as Habrunt's once had.
This she must do. Let there be no mistake about it.
Chapter Seven - On The March
The expedition made good time for the first few days. A considerable
body of men at arms was taken along to act as a bodyguard. Mearch,
Royal Armorer, stayed behind to keep the city garrison.
They marched parallel to the river through the midst of the gulf plains
for a good distance, and were able to travel with little danger through
the fertile lush vegetation.
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