Clouded Purity - Book 2 of The Trial

Clouded Purity - Chapter 4

The vision shifted in subtle ways, drawing Prism back into his own memories. He allowed Ghayle to pull him there, comforted by the vision of Grim and his family. Longing for simpler times filled his heart, and as much as he wanted to resist the pain ahead, he also ached to relive the bright moments along the path. Giving himself fully over to Ghayle, the city streets of Kobinaru reformed in his mind.

Grandmaster Valkean walked behind him, holding one end of the rope binding Prism's hands. They'd walked in this manner ever since leaving the shadow of the bridge, and Prism didn't bother to hide his annoyance. Darting angry glances back at Valkean's pleasant smile with every other step, he eventually tired of trying to make the monk feel his ire.

As soon as he gave up, Valkean returned Prism's efforts in kind, and was far more successful. "Prism, you're from the Dorram, aren't you?" He asked. Prism gritted his teeth and remained silent. Nothing good could come from answering his captor's questions. He'd already done enough talking for the day. Silence did not deter Valkean in the slightest, and his casual prattle resumed as soon as Prism glared at him again. "I'll simply keep asking you until you answer me, so you might as well speak up now."

Prism snapped his attention forward again, intending to ignore everything Valkean said from that point on, but the monk continued speaking anyway. "You've the accent of a Dorrami. I spent an entire summer there once," Valkean remarked wistfully. Nostalgia and Dorrami summers didn't fit together in Prism's mind. A Dorrami summer was hot, humid, and drew every insect from the surrounding countryside like commoners to a festival. Valkean's voice remained as pleasant as ever, however, as he went on, "There's a type of fly which usually infests your wild chickens, but sometimes they go after Dorrami, don't they? They're little annoying things, buzzing in your ear all day long. You try and swat them, but they always seem to know your hand is coming. You could learn a lot from the Sikoba fly."

Sikooba flies. Prism shuddered at the thought. He'd spent enough nights outside in summer to have a lifetime of experience with the annoying insects. Muscles twitched in his shoulders and back as he instinctively sought to swat at a bead of sweat on his neck.

"So, how'd you end up here, anyway? The Dorram wasn't good enough for you, so you decided to visit old Kob and see if it's everything they say it is?" Valkean said.

"You's as annoyin' as the Sikooba," Prism said. He spat on the ground in front of him, a common offensive move in Dorrami one made when trying to start a fight.

The spitting didn't phase Valkean in the least. "I never could master that long 'o' sound. It's hard to know when to place the emphasis. Maybe you could teach me?" He suggested.

Prism snorted. "You's don't want me teachin' nobody. How's about you just look south, yeah?"

Valkean chuckled heartily. "I'm not going to let you go, Prism. I made a promise to Captain Tson, and he will be expecting you to be in my charge when the next inspection comes around. If you had committed a less serious crime than attacking a nobleman, he would've been more lenient, I think."

"Don't think so," Prism replied. "I embarrassed the Rooba."