Theo and the Secret of Elshon (Book of Theo 2) by Melanie Ansley

Author:Melanie Ansley [Ansley, Melanie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Writing Rooster Media
Published: 2021-11-17T16:00:00+00:00

The rain continued, relentless. As the princess and the bear began sorting through the cart’s contents for transportable food and tools, Theo opened the book. He knew he would take it with him, even if it reminded him of Orjo. A book was too precious to leave behind.

For a long time, he simply stared at the pages until, despite himself, his anger and defeatism gave way to curiosity.

Something about the paper and the words was different. Almost all the books he had seen had been written with a quill, and indeed these pages were covered with copious amounts of notes in the margins, but the main text of this book looked different. Every glyph of every word was spaced evenly, with no spots to show where the nib had newly been dipped in ink, and no discrepancies between how the same glyphs were written.

“You look like you’re far away.”

He realized he had been staring at the book for several moments. He looked up at Indigo. “I’ve never seen a book like this. The writing is all the same, as if someone had the ability to catch words in exactly the same way every time.”

He went back to the book and began releasing the words, letting himself sink into the rhythm of the songs. He studied the many notes in the book, captured words that appeared in blue, black, and sometimes green ink. Were these words captured by Orjo? Or some other omatje long ago?

The more he read, the more engrossed he became. The songs were unlike any he had ever heard. They were by turns bawdy, sad, bitter, ecstatic, and lovelorn, but above all, they held a defiant humor such that he could almost hear the bard laughing behind each sentence. All the songs he knew or had heard used genteel language, but Calgornan seemed to delight in using highborn as well as everyday words, no matter how callous.

“What’s wrong? You look embarrassed.”

Theo glanced at Indigo. “It’s nothing, just that this omatje has a crude style. Maybe that’s why he’s so famous.”

Brune checked a pitcher for cracks, then placed it outside to collect rainwater. “Crude how?”

Theo drew a breath and read. “‘I’ll sing my songs in the morning, be I clothed or naked or poor, and my guitar’ll keep me warm at night, though I sleep on the wine-soaked floor.’”

Indigo flicked an ear. “I can see why Orjo liked this bard.” Noticing Theo’s change in expression, she looked from him to the book. “What?”

He continued, excited,

You can kill the bird, but how do you kill its song?

Though I’ll be seeing Aktu

Before the shadows grow long

My music will walk away, carefree when I’m gone.

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