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datatime: 2022-10-07 00:20:30 Author:RvoyLIBl

Still weeping, Abby pushed herself up and slid on to the step. The Mother Confessor was older by maybe twelve or fourteen years, and pleasant-looking, with those violet eyes. Her mass of long hair reached her waist. She had a warm smile. It had never occurred to Abby to think of a Confessor as a woman, but that was what she saw now. She didn't fear this woman as she had before; nothing she did could be worse than what already had been done.

Abby peered up at the sorceress. She gave Abby a sympathetic smile and a nod to confirm the truth of it.

The Mother Confessor patted the stone step beside her. 'Abigail, sit up here beside me. Let me tell you about the man in there.'

'I understand why you feel that way, Abigail,' the Mother Confessor said, 'but it is not true.'

'I understand why you feel that way, Abigail,' the Mother Confessor said, 'but it is not true.'

Still weeping, Abby pushed herself up and slid on to the step. The Mother Confessor was older by maybe twelve or fourteen years, and pleasant-looking, with those violet eyes. Her mass of long hair reached her waist. She had a warm smile. It had never occurred to Abby to think of a Confessor as a woman, but that was what she saw now. She didn't fear this woman as she had before; nothing she did could be worse than what already had been done.

She fell to hysterical wailing again, and the Mother Confessor once again drew her into comforting arms. Comfort was not what Abby wanted.

'How can you say that My husband will die. My father, too, but he has had a chance to live a life. My baby hasn't'

'Yes,' Abby said, 'he is very talented at being the wind of death.'

'About the age of your daughter,' Delora said.

Abby swallowed. 'I see.'

'He's a monster,' she sobbed. 'He is truly named. He is the ill wind of death. This time it's my baby he's killing, not the enemy.'

'Well, the war had been bad enough, but then Panis Rahl taught his wizards to conjure shadow people.' The Mother Confessor sighed at the anguish of retelling the story. They are so called because they are like shadows in the air. They have no precise shape or form. They are not living, but created out of magic. Weapons have no more effect on them than they would have on smoke.

Abby peered up at the sorceress. She gave Abby a sympathetic smile and a nod to confirm the truth of it.

The Mother Confessor smiled a small smile. She tapped her chest. 'Among ourselves, those of us who really know him call him the trickster, The trickster is the name he has truly earned. We named him the wind of death for others to hear, so as to strike terror into the hearts of the enemy. Some people on our side take that name to heart. Perhaps, since your mother was gifted, you can understand how people sometimes unreasonably fear those with magic?'

'About the age of your daughter,' Delora said.

Abby's curiosity got the best of her. 'How old is she?'

'Just listen.'

'Just listen.'

Abby swallowed. 'I see.'

'I understand why you feel that way, Abigail,' the Mother Confessor said, 'but it is not true.'

'Just listen.'

Abby's curiosity got the best of her. 'How old is she?'

'I won't, but I don't see -'

The Mother Confessor appraised Abby's eyes a moment, and then held up a cautionary finger. 'In confidence, ( am going to tell you about Zeddicus Zu'l Zorander. If you ever repeat this story, I will never forgive you for betraying my confidence.'

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