[mark12_30]

Kesha and Gamba got used to looking for their reflections in brass. It wasn't exactly easy work, and their arms got tired, but they polished on. For one thing, the fresh air smelled much better than the garbage chutes, and the crannies and hiding places in the Hold, and even better than Cami's closet, which got stifling after a boy had been there for a night or five. And Gamba was very relieved that he had not gotten in far worse trouble.

Cami continued to surprise him. And yet, the more he thought of it, she wasn't really that much more merciful than Loremaster had been. Gamba had just never seen the mercy in the old man. His old punishnments had always involved studying more, which sometimes seemed like an intolerable burden, whereas the brass seemed almost like fun, since it was outdoors, under the sky and in the wind. As he polished one bit of brass after the next, Gamba reviewed the many times that Loremaster had disciplined him. Studying was really a pretty merciful punishment, he reflected, thinking back over the rescue and the battle and the weeks and weeks of gravedigging, and he reflected that the only time the punishment had ever been severe-- being sent to dig graves-- was when he had been disrespectful about Loremaster's favorite poet.

Gamba wondered who Cami's favorite poet was, and resolved to ask her, and never, ever be disrespectful about that poet. But then he thought about it again.

I bet Loremaster Maura is her soft spot, he thought. And then he relaxed. After singing Lindo's Lament for Maura night after night as Little Maura's special lullabye, he had developed his own respect for Loremaster Maura, and had no desire to be disrespectful to him anyway.

Maybe, though, he would still ask her, and maybe she'd tell him a story. He hoped she would.

He went on to the next peice of brass, and felt the wind in his curls, and thought that polishing brass wasn't that bad at all.

[ December 11, 2002: Message edited by: mark12_30 ]