There are few joys to compare with the telling of a well-told tale
Unlike his father, he was not a harper. But he was a bard all the same, and the stories he know…
He listened to Cat prattle on with a smile on his lips, well pleased that she should choose to follow his profession.
“There are few joys to compare with the telling of a well-told tale,” he remarked when Cat finally ran out of words.
Cat nodded. Though she was only eleven, she was already a voracious reader.
“I just know it’s what I want to do,” she said, “but…”
Her voice trailed off, and for a time they walked in silence. The tang of the sea was in the air. The Otherworld stars wheeled and spun in constellations unfamiliar to Cat’s homeworld, but well known to her.
“But what?” Kothen prompted.
“I don’t know what to write about.”