Anwar's Journal
Sep. 9th, 2011 11:54 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
velvetpageI'm tired, but not sleepy (too much caffeine) so
Dear Ramses,
The message from Tak today was like eating a pickle and drinking the brine with it: sweet after so long without sweetness, and yet it burned.
You live. I wasn't sure. I knew I had come close to killing you, but I had no assurance that I had pulled that last blow in time, or that the blow before it had not been enough. But you live, and whatever happens, there's some absolution in that.
It seems you are called Adon now. I will not think of you so, but I'm glad to know it nonetheless.
And now the bitterness: I am dead to you. Well and good, I did not expect even to have it confirmed. It seems also that through you I am dead to all the Drey in the city; I seem to be the only one unaware of the exodus. And yet the very act of sending the message has opened them up to me. I thought they had fled the city, and you with them. Now I think they, and you, are probably still here. In the catacombs, perhaps? Solon will see what he can discover for me, in the Secretariat, though I doubt the Templars there know anything about this. It seems to be the best-kept secret in the city, the only route to it being through the gladiators in the old slave pits.
Do you lead our people, Ramses? You have not formed a gang like the Iron Rats, but perhaps you have a gang of a different sort; or perhaps tribe would be a better term. I know of seven Drey who have left their posts, without a word to anyone, and nobody seems to have any idea where they went, except the gladiators who denied even knowing the one who was their trainer, Aqhat. Denying his existence or their knowledge of him was poor secret-keeping on their part. It is far too easy to put the lie to such denial. Now I know they know where to find Aqhat, so I suspect they could lead me to you. Perhaps it is Aqhat who leads.
You live. It is enough, for now. Perhaps one day, I will live again to you.
Dear Ramses,
The message from Tak today was like eating a pickle and drinking the brine with it: sweet after so long without sweetness, and yet it burned.
You live. I wasn't sure. I knew I had come close to killing you, but I had no assurance that I had pulled that last blow in time, or that the blow before it had not been enough. But you live, and whatever happens, there's some absolution in that.
It seems you are called Adon now. I will not think of you so, but I'm glad to know it nonetheless.
And now the bitterness: I am dead to you. Well and good, I did not expect even to have it confirmed. It seems also that through you I am dead to all the Drey in the city; I seem to be the only one unaware of the exodus. And yet the very act of sending the message has opened them up to me. I thought they had fled the city, and you with them. Now I think they, and you, are probably still here. In the catacombs, perhaps? Solon will see what he can discover for me, in the Secretariat, though I doubt the Templars there know anything about this. It seems to be the best-kept secret in the city, the only route to it being through the gladiators in the old slave pits.
Do you lead our people, Ramses? You have not formed a gang like the Iron Rats, but perhaps you have a gang of a different sort; or perhaps tribe would be a better term. I know of seven Drey who have left their posts, without a word to anyone, and nobody seems to have any idea where they went, except the gladiators who denied even knowing the one who was their trainer, Aqhat. Denying his existence or their knowledge of him was poor secret-keeping on their part. It is far too easy to put the lie to such denial. Now I know they know where to find Aqhat, so I suspect they could lead me to you. Perhaps it is Aqhat who leads.
You live. It is enough, for now. Perhaps one day, I will live again to you.