The Shadow of the Blade by R. R. King

Author:R. R. King [King, R. R.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction, Fantasy
Published: 2017-12-04T07:00:00+00:00

15

Battle of Silence

What I consider an epiphany, reveals itself as my darkest hour.

Just when I think I have the King in the palm of my hands, ready to mold in every which way I want, he reads through me, enough to expose my past.

I breathe with a parted mouth, but the muscles around my lips remain tense. A pain surges through my neck. The effort to conceal my feelings is greater than I have expected. In the court’s eyes, I am lower than a low-life Lurker now. I remember my mother telling me about orphans being hunted and buried alive in the Season of Sacrifice.

Surprisingly, it’s the King who lifts the weight off my shoulder.

“Orphan or not,” he says. “I can only admire your knowledge.”

“Thank you.” I bow my head with gratitude.

“Which brings me to my next concern.”

I say nothing.

“Your storytelling amused me in the beginning,” he says. “Flowery words, a few metaphors, great attention to details, and a lot of intriguing situations and characters.”

I nod.

“All until you began the part where you visited the Mile of Melodies.”

I squint. Tilt my head.

“Do you know what you did wrong, Shadow?”

“Not sure.”

“You started telling, not showing. In the art of storytelling, which you seem to have quite mastered, a storyteller will show his story with words and details. A poor storyteller, only tells.”

“I know.”

“But you’ve been mostly telling me things, events, and things said. You skip details, whole scenes I want to explore. I want descriptions. I want to see with my mind’s eye the things you saw.”

“And that concerns you?”

King Thorn leans forward. I can see it now. My eyes got used to his figure’s movements from such a distance. I wish I could see his face though. “A man who tells a story and not show it, has one intention on his mind. Can you guess what?”

I know, but I keep it to myself, my eyes staring back at the King.

“A man who only tells a story is usually lying,” he says. “If I tell you I took a swim in the ocean today and fought a great whale and killed it, without mentioning the ocean’s name, the whale’s breed or color, without expressing how I felt, then I’d be telling a story, not showing it. It means I am lying. Because the devil is in—”

“The details.”

“Exactly. So do you have an explanation why you skipped the details, or should I feed you to my dragons?”

I answer right away. Sometimes it’s wiser to break the rules and talk.

“Time is running out, my King,” I say, using the my King phrase for the first time. “I could bore you with the details, but I have seven stories to tell. I assumed you only cared for enough details to know my words are real, not so much to bore you with the geography of the Mile of Melodies or its most cherished traditions. I could bore you if you so would like.”

The King leans back. Another battle of silence.

He says nothing.

I say nothing back.

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