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7th Sea Fiction

by John Wick
Derwyddon walked the halls of Glenayre, a shuffle to his step. With his right eye
he could see bright streams of sunlight shining through the high windows. The
hall glimmered where the light fell on great golden pillars and a white marble
floor. In his good eye, the light was too bright and he winced as it reflected off
the polished surfaces. The gold paint on the pillars was cracked, but not quite
peeling yet, and the floor wanted a sweeping.
He shook his head. It was hard to be what he was, half fooled by the glamour of
Avalon, the other half immune. He took his time passing through the long Hall of
Fathers, the eyes of a hundred painted gentlemen staring down at him. But
moving slowly did not change the news he carried to his Queen.
Entering the throne room, he gazed at the tapestries, the courtiers, even the throne
itself. Each one offered him a double image, one shining, the other plain. It was
only when he looked upon the queen herself that everything came into focus.
Bright and brilliant, although no one but him could see her wringing hands.
Taking a deep breath, he spoke. "They've arrived my lady. MacDuff, and the
She nodded softly, and he gave her a low bow. The courtiers stared at him, and he
half-heard their thoughts as they floated through the room. Sorcerer some of
them threw at him. Beast whispered the others. He stepped back into the shadows
and caught himself grinning at their words. If they knew the truth, they would be
far more careful with their silent allegations.