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(Scars do not appear to be cause of death –shock ... - Bad Request

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My jaw dropped, "But... he's your father. Don't y-"<br />

"Not me real Da, he wasn't." Her eyes <strong>to</strong>ok on a hard look. "He was greedy,<br />

an' he was stupid, an' he was selfish, an' he was weak. An' now 'ee's dead.<br />

And that's all."<br />

I sighed, hefting the crutch in my hand. The rickety wooden staff had a<br />

crosspiece nailed across the <strong>to</strong>p, itself wrapped in rags presumably <strong>to</strong> keep<br />

the damn thing from jamming <strong>to</strong>o sharply in<strong>to</strong> Pharod's armpit when he<br />

leaned on it. Not surprisingly, the crutch smelled terrible, and every inch <strong>of</strong><br />

it was covered in dirt, sewage, and unidentifiable remains.<br />

Something about it made me wonder: despite its fragile <strong>appear</strong>ance, it had<br />

held up rather well. I even tested it with my weight and it held up without so<br />

much as creaking. Considering Pharod's scavenging nature, the crutch<br />

probably had some value <strong>be</strong>yond its surface <strong>appear</strong>ance for him. Perhaps it<br />

was a weapon (even if he didn't defend himself in the end), or...<br />

I wandered around the Court, holding the crutch in one hand, pointing and<br />

gesturing and hobbling on it. I only had <strong>to</strong> search for a few minutes<br />

<strong>be</strong>fore....WHOOOOOSH…..The air <strong>be</strong>fore me cracked open in<strong>to</strong> a familiar<br />

blue portal.<br />

Brilliant.<br />

The air <strong>to</strong>ok me by surprise when we entered the portal. It was musty and<br />

stale, but clean <strong>of</strong> the foul sewage stench <strong>of</strong> the Buried Village. High,<br />

graceful alcoves contained books, books, and more books, all indexed and<br />

placed in neat order among the shelves. They were free <strong>of</strong> dust, subject <strong>to</strong><br />

meticulous cleaning by a hand that knew how <strong>to</strong> arrange things. I pulled a<br />

few <strong>to</strong>mes out, looked over the faded ink. A few had patches <strong>of</strong><br />

yellow-brown paste carefully applied <strong>to</strong> mend tears.<br />

This was Pharod's hidden side... a library deep <strong>be</strong>neath Illwind Court, the sad<br />

remnant <strong>of</strong> what glory this place used <strong>to</strong> <strong>be</strong>ar.<br />

How <strong>of</strong>ten had Pharod closed <strong>of</strong>f Illwind Court so he could walk these halls<br />

undistur<strong>be</strong>d, reading ancient books and sighing wistfully over his lost days as<br />

a Guvner? Did he try <strong>to</strong> rebuild something he once had here, patching up<br />

lost annals and archives?<br />

504

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