“Damn
the Fates,” he muttered as he labored up the hill, “So many good ideas and no
ability to write them down.”
“Aleron! Stop your dawdling. I do not want to be late.”
“Yes,
my lady,” teeth gritted he tried to speed his pace. It wasn’t much, but Lady Torellani seemed
satisfied.
Arriving
at the ancient mansion, he dropped the poles of the rickshaw and hurried to
lower the step for Lady Torellani. It
didn’t matter how fast he was; she still gave him that icy glare as if she’d
been waiting an eternity for him. He held
his hand out to assist her, but she swept past him. Even the rustle of the copious layers of silk
in her dress seemed to whisper condemnations.
As
Aleron watched Lady Torellani enter the mansion, he moved back the front of the
rickshaw to pull it off the street.
Maybe he’d finally have a chance to write about the ideas in his
head. Inventions. Poetry.
Epics. Art. So much inspiration. It was all there roiling in his mind until he
felt he may go mad from the turmoil.
Reaching
the stable, Aleron set the rickshaw down.
He dug in his pockets for the scraps of paper and pencil he kept there
in the vain hope he’d have a chance to use them.
“Aleron?”
Sighing,
Aleron looked up, “Yes?”
“Lady
Torellani wished you to address several tasks while you wait. Here is the list.”
He took
the list from the serving man and almost choked. The duties she assigned would surely take him
all day. Even then, he felt uncertain
about accomplishing them all before she would want to return home. Feeling tears welling, he left the
courtyard. It wouldn’t do to have the
servants of the house see his weakness.
It would get back to Lady Torellani and that would be dangerous.
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