Ventus by Karl Schroeder

Karl Schroeder / Ventus / Page 330
by noon," was all he said.
"Well."
Maut leaned forward, the weariness returned to his eyes.
"Tell me your story," he said.
Galas closed her eyes. In her life, only one other had
asked her for this--not the story, but her story. Grief choked
her momentarily.
"All right. I shall try to tell it as a tale--as I’ve often
wanted to. I... I pictured myself sometimes, setting my child
on my knee and telling it. There will be no child. But here is
the story."