The Book of Deacon (The Book of Deacon Series 1) by Joseph Lallo

Author:Joseph Lallo [Lallo, Joseph]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Tags: Children's eBooks, Science Fiction & Fantasy, Fantasy, Teen & Young Adult, Epic, Sword & Sorcery
Published: 2010-01-28T05:00:00+00:00

Myranda was lead out of the hut and along a well-worn path. Around the hut she had been given were a dozen others just like it, simple structures of wood with a thatched roof. Young people of every race lingered in the area, each wearing a similar blue tunic. As they continued, Myranda came to realize that the whole of the village, and a sizable one at that, was arranged in small clusters around courtyards with a larger hut at their center. Different groups of dwellings seemed to be populated by different groups of similarly dressed residents. There were people dressed in white, others in black. There were tunics of red, brown, aqua, and yellow. Scattered among them were older figures, some in deep conversation with one another, others trailing groups of younger villagers. If this was a place of learning, as Deacon had said, then these must be the teachers.

The pair came to a wide, stone-paved road that divided the village down the middle. It ran from the now-raging waterfall to a vast courtyard ringed with short walls. At its center was a majestic-looking structure, the only place she'd seen thus far that seemed to have been built as anything more than a shelter. It had tall, glass windows, a shingled roof, and painted patterns on its walls.

Myranda was led across the central path and around the rim of the courtyard. The huts around her now were somewhat different to those on the other side of the road. Targets and training dummies could be found in the center of the gatherings of huts. The students in this area wore sturdier clothing than the simple tunics she'd seen thus far, each adorned with various intricate badges and patches.

Finally she came to a long, curving hut with smoke rising from a pair of chimneys at one side. The walls were covered with windows, and a scattering of the village's people sat at tables within. Once inside, a simple earthenware bowl for each of them was filled with a thin vegetable stew and a coarse loaf of wheat bread was split between them. Myranda made short work of the stew, abandoning a spoon in favor of the bread, dipping and eating. She had messily dispatched half of the bowl in this manner when she realized the attention she was attracting. She smiled meekly when Deacon handed her a spoon.

"I am sorry," she said.

"No need to apologize. I am always happy to see a new technique," he said.

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