Lafayette
Man of Artistic Fingers
I'm trying to follow some of the advice given here. Please, let me know if this is better (or worse).
“I’m Layanna Wand, I wish to speak to Healer Harold,” said the soft voice of the slender woman in green.
The man at the door appeared numb groping for words, “That won’t be possible …”
The woman’s coffee-brown eyes frowned, “Why not? He’s expecting me. I’m a healer sent from Emerald Valley to help stave off the contagion.”
“Because, because, because he’s dead,” replied the old man. “He died an hour ago … from the contagion.” Then he added, “I’m sorry.”
Layanna sucked in her mouth and then gave a rueful grin, “Don’t be. It’s been one of those days or rather one of those weeks. May we please see his body?” As an after-thought she answered the man’s unspoken question, “This is my new traveling companion, Reeshard René Beaugasson.”
The man nodded.
The bedroom was void of mourners. Fogging the room was a haze of blue smoke. The smoke was coming from incense sticks emitting an odor of garlic and blue pepper.
“Phew,” said Reeshard. “Why the incense?”
“It’s to keep the stinger ants away,” answered Layanna.
As the smoke swirled in the dark chamber so did the thoughts of Layanna as she studied the dead shell of Harold.
“Are ya day dreamin’ again?” asked a cheerful baritone. The baritone was John Planter an orchard grower.
Layanna turned from the window, “I was again admiring the many greens of Emerald Valley. This time I counted twenty-four. I especially love the way the dew makes the grass and leaves sparkle. They’re like jewels they’re like like …”
“Like emeralds,” laughed the short burly man as he sat a wooden box of fruit on the kitchen floor.
“Yes, like emeralds,” answered Layanna. “That’s why it’s called Emerald Valley.” Then she paused, “I wonder if there are any places that sparkle like sapphires or diamonds?
“Why do ya wonder that?”
“How is your uncle with his gout?” she asks softly.
“He’s fine. Ya should know that. And so are the babies ya delivered to Mrs. Swan last week. You’re the best healer we’ve had in Emerald Valley in a long moon. We’re blest ta have ya.”
“Thanks, John for the compliment, but any healer can easily do what I do.”
“There ya go agin belittlin’ yerself, Layanna,” replied John in a miff. “I wish ya quit that. Ya don’t deserve that. I wish ta god I knew what’s gnawin’ at ya.”
Layanna smiled, I know what’s gnawing at me: I’m stuck here, but you wouldn’t understand for you are more in love with Emerald Valley than I am.
“Lady Wand,” interrupted the old man, “The High Captain of the Guard needs to speak to you.
Without a word Layanna and Reeshard follow the old man out the door.
“I’m Layanna Wand, I wish to speak to Healer Harold,” said the soft voice of the slender woman in green.
The man at the door appeared numb groping for words, “That won’t be possible …”
The woman’s coffee-brown eyes frowned, “Why not? He’s expecting me. I’m a healer sent from Emerald Valley to help stave off the contagion.”
“Because, because, because he’s dead,” replied the old man. “He died an hour ago … from the contagion.” Then he added, “I’m sorry.”
Layanna sucked in her mouth and then gave a rueful grin, “Don’t be. It’s been one of those days or rather one of those weeks. May we please see his body?” As an after-thought she answered the man’s unspoken question, “This is my new traveling companion, Reeshard René Beaugasson.”
The man nodded.
The bedroom was void of mourners. Fogging the room was a haze of blue smoke. The smoke was coming from incense sticks emitting an odor of garlic and blue pepper.
“Phew,” said Reeshard. “Why the incense?”
“It’s to keep the stinger ants away,” answered Layanna.
As the smoke swirled in the dark chamber so did the thoughts of Layanna as she studied the dead shell of Harold.
“Are ya day dreamin’ again?” asked a cheerful baritone. The baritone was John Planter an orchard grower.
Layanna turned from the window, “I was again admiring the many greens of Emerald Valley. This time I counted twenty-four. I especially love the way the dew makes the grass and leaves sparkle. They’re like jewels they’re like like …”
“Like emeralds,” laughed the short burly man as he sat a wooden box of fruit on the kitchen floor.
“Yes, like emeralds,” answered Layanna. “That’s why it’s called Emerald Valley.” Then she paused, “I wonder if there are any places that sparkle like sapphires or diamonds?
“Why do ya wonder that?”
“How is your uncle with his gout?” she asks softly.
“He’s fine. Ya should know that. And so are the babies ya delivered to Mrs. Swan last week. You’re the best healer we’ve had in Emerald Valley in a long moon. We’re blest ta have ya.”
“Thanks, John for the compliment, but any healer can easily do what I do.”
“There ya go agin belittlin’ yerself, Layanna,” replied John in a miff. “I wish ya quit that. Ya don’t deserve that. I wish ta god I knew what’s gnawin’ at ya.”
Layanna smiled, I know what’s gnawing at me: I’m stuck here, but you wouldn’t understand for you are more in love with Emerald Valley than I am.
“Lady Wand,” interrupted the old man, “The High Captain of the Guard needs to speak to you.
Without a word Layanna and Reeshard follow the old man out the door.