Wednesday has come around again and I’m happy to present this week’s flash fiction.
A cane echoed loudly beyond the library. Gilsi spun, slipping the book she clutched beneath a stack of papers on her desk. Bertin’s cane struck the heavy study door forcing it open plodding his way in. Taking a step back, Gilsi inclined her head. “Good morrow, Scribe Bertin.”
He cleared his throat in response. His cane made a final thump as he eased himself into his chair. Before his chair finished creaking, Gilsi seated herself.
Bertin’s hand ran over the various stacks cover his desk, stopping at the third on the left. He rested his hand on the stack, brows drew together. Gilsi clutched the edge of her desk as his scowl deepened.
No. No. No. She repeated to herself as Bertin looked through the stack she’d freed the book from. The man was a hound with papers. If she’d been off by even pages, he’d note the difference.
He huffed, running his fingers over the papers in the stack. Cheeks building a breath sputted out. Withdrawing his hand, he nodded in satisfaction. “As we were discussing in the Succession War yesterday.” Bertin voice feel into the steady drone of his lectures.
Gilsi let her breath out. A hound, but a blind one. She slipped the book to her lap, mostly ignoring the lecture he repeated yearly. The Succession Wars were everything and why her family toiled beneath the Scribes. Penance for their betrayals then. But the journal told a different story. One Gilsi was eager to learn.
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