Free The Weaver's Lament by Elizabeth Haydon

patted the roan and finished tacking it up.
    â€œWhat’s she like?”
    Meridion considered. “I don’t really know how to describe her,” he said, tending to his own mount. “She doesn’t look like anyone I could compare her to, dark of hair and eye, and seemingly studious. I know this sounds odd, but it would not surprise me if she had a touch of Bolg in her bloodline.”
    Rhapsody stopped short and turned in amazement. “Really?”
    Meridion shrugged. “It’s possible; I’m not sure. But for now, I am willing to wait until it feels right. And, up until now, no other person has made that happen.”
    â€œWell, thank you for telling me,” Rhapsody said as he finished tacking up and adjusted his horse’s hackamore. “I’m not actively worried about you; I merely want life to hold all the love it can for you, just as I wish for all of our family. I have always wished that the last thing I might be allowed to say to each of my children is what the Patriarch before Constantin said to me as he was leaving for the Light—‘Above all else, may you know joy.’”
    â€œI appreciate your concern. But one thing I’ve learned from the bequest of an unusually long life span is that filling the empty space with placeholders until what is meant to be there is present is not always the best way to go. I’ve seen many examples of it.”
    Rhapsody nodded. “I know. Well, if you’re ready, let’s be on our way—it is my hope that we will have some time in each other’s company before our paths diverge, and that you will arrive at Highmeadow a day or so ahead of me.”
    â€œOff to visit Elynsynos?” Meridion inquired as he led his mare from the stable.
    â€œYes. I haven’t seen her in such a long time, and I want to make sure she is well.” Rhapsody’s smile faded to seriousness. “I always hope to get perspective from her on the dragon aspects of the family with which I alone am unfamiliar.”
    â€œI imagine that can be very strange when it’s not in your blood,” Meridion said. “It’s even strange to me, and I have the vertical pupils and the throat structure to do the roar to prove my qualifications.”
    Mother and son laughed as they closed the stable door, mounted up, and rode off to the northlands.

 
    7
    THE REPOSITORY, TYRIAN CITY, SOUTH OF THE CIRCLE
    Three days later, Cara and Evannii met up with Meridion and Rhapsody at the central wing of the Repository, one of the museums where lore was collected and displayed for the public.
    It was here that mother and son had hosted the Symposium of Namers for a fortnight, one of the largest gathering of the practitioners of the science of musical healing and education in the Known World. Meridion, one of the foremost experts on many elements of Naming lore, had conducted a number of workshops and teaching sessions, including the escorting of several of the Sea Mages from the island of Gaematria through the new wing that housed the maritime collection.
    The three women followed Meridion around a corner and came to an abrupt stop.
    â€œWhat is all this, Hamimen?” Evannii had asked, standing at the vestibule of a wing of the Repository, an archway over which read the inscription Explicarum Mortes .
    â€œThe new hallway of Death,” Rhapsody said blandly.
    Cara nodded while Evannii blanched.
    Rhapsody nodded. “This is actually a significant part of a Namer’s training,” she said, smiling slightly. “One of the most common of the aspects of our practice is death rituals, the various songs, prayers, ceremonies, and observances which celebrate the passage from life through death into the Afterlife. As you know, we have a similar dedication to the passage into life as well, birthing and Naming ceremonies and the like, but there is no event about which more lore is written, more time is spent in study and