Letter to Versi (#10)
(Written in the morning before leaving the Forge to go to the Necropolis.)
My dearest Versi,
I do not yet know what your reaction is to my previous letters: I suppose you might not want to hear from me. If that is the case, then throw away this letter and send word, so I don’t hurt you any further with my contact.
But if you are still reading, as I dearly hope you are, then know my heart is glad for it.
We’ve left Estoria now to go and complete our last Labour. The dwarves are safe and sound in the Mines, where we also got to speak to Volkan and pick up an amulet he crafted for Braz. We asked him about fixing Kyrah’s broken lute for her too, but he needs some materials to fix it. Nymph hairs, of all things: it looks like we are going to have to wait to get it mended. It is a shame really; she seemed so excited to find the lute, and then so disappointed when it broke. It would be nice to do something to thank her for all the help she has been giving us. Or, well, has been trying to give us.
Anyway, next stop, the Necropolis. Hippofilius helped me gather some flowers yesterday, and we’re going to look for more today. It’s an old siren tradition: throwing flowers into the water to mourn. The idea is that you offer the water your lamentations and wherever it is the deceased has ended up, the water will find them and bring the flowers, and your feelings, to them.
Of course, other races tend to bury their dead. Sirens would actually usually mourn at the waterside for them too: after all, water gets everywhere eventually, through streams, rivers, rain. But I suppose there is something symbolic about laying the flowers down where the person rests instead.
I’ll admit I’m in two minds about it though. They were my friends, the Dragonlords. But if Aesop is right, then they caused the death of my flock. Whether or not I remember my village, should I really be laying flowers at the graves of people who did something like that?
But, then again, shouldn’t we remember them for the good and the bad? Acknowledging their successes and their faults, so that we might not make the same mistakes. I... suppose it is an easy sentiment to have when I can’t remember my flock to mourn them in the first place.
Maybe my desire to lay flowers is about forgiveness? But, and I know it sounds strange, I don’t think I have the right to forgive them: with so few memories, I’m not really the Calliope they hurt. Not anymore anyway.
You know, for all these heavy thoughts, I’m actually feeling in rather good spirits today. I guess I’m looking forward to the chance to resolve some of these issues, one way or another. Though maybe it is simply the flowers lifting my mood? There is something so comforting about them; even just their smell fills my heart with joy. I’ll have to bring you some next time I see you.
If you’ll let me, that is.
Gods. You’ll have to forgive me: until I can see you again and know your feelings, I’m afraid I am going to sound very much like a drunken bard who can only remember one line of a song. But I’m going to repeat myself again, and again, until I can be sure I have not lost your affections.
I am truly sorry, my love.
Ever yours,
Calliope