Aug. 26th, 2012

alexseanchai: quill, ink bottle, and calligraphy (Default)
Alita came over to examine the map laid out on the central table. After a moment of study, she turned to face the largest cluster of people. "Kits, cats, sacks, and wives," she said.

Damned oracles. Always thinking they're clear as crystal, when the truth is, till afterwards, they're clear as mud.

Rebecca helpfully recited the full poem.

"So, what," said Saira sourly, "the solution's so obvious a child could find it?"

"No, no," said Nia. "It should be that obvious. But all the multiplying by sevens are there on purpose, to keep us busy—what are they doing that they want us to see? And where is that keeping us from looking?"

As the room dissolved into an argument, Savitri sidled over to Alita. "It might not be that the speaker's going to St. Ives and nobody else is," she remarked. "It might be that everybody's going to St. Ives and the speaker's making better time because of not herding cats."

Alita smiled.


alexseanchai: quill, ink bottle, and calligraphy (Default)
our roads may be golden, or broken, or lost

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