Secrets about the Voices

I sat at the same table as an old man. He too had befriended the hobbling three legged dog, which we both now call by the name of Three-leg. While stroking the dog’s head gently he vigorously drew a finger across his throat with his free hand. Leaned forward and spoke with a low voice: “It’s gonna happen, yeah, the Archivist! The word is out all over the city…If I were the Archivist, I’d be out of here on the next ship!” His eyes bore into mine, he held them for far too long and then he fell back in his seat. Despite the heat a chill ran up my spine. “I wouldn’t want to be in his shoes right now.” I confessed. The old man smiled wryly and scratched Three-leg’s ear.

Many other things about the city and its Voices he told me. The old man knew them all. Knew some secrets too. Many secrets. Like some things about Niko that are not befitting a man of the cloth, from when he was a youngster and thought nobody was looking. The old man had seen it all, but never spoke a word to anyone about it, and got nothing in return for his silence.

A man walked passed and we both looked up. He wore a large knife on his belt, sharp, gleaming, and menacing. We looked at each other and quickly turned away in shock. It was him, heading into the city to meet darkness and evil.

More wine was poured out and washed down with fresh bread. The talked turned to another of the Voices, and how the rumors were out about her expecting a child. But nobody knows the father, he confided with a furrow deep enough to scare the most fearless. I asked about Voices and off-spring. He knew of none, but it could be. I thought it was fibs and told him so. He was suddenly tired and got up to go. I smiled and let him.

Morron