Rahab's back was to Clara; he was writing key points in the history of Nosgoth when the first piece of paper hit him in the back of the neck. Pausing, he turned around slowly from the blackboard with a serious, no-nonsense expression on his face and stared at the only other person in the room. He knew what Clara was going to say.
"I didn't do it," the eight-year-old girl giggled, covering a mischievous smile with her hands. Sitting down at a mahogany desk in Rahab's massive library that was lit by a few lanterns and candles, the top was covered with books both opened and closed, as well as yellowed scrolls that contained sagas he had instructed her to read. Clara swung her legs from the chair that was a bit too tall for her and tried to give her uncle the most innocent look she could muster.
"Since there is no one else in the room, Clara, logic dictates that it was you and only you who threw it at me." She shook her head, yellow curls that came down to her shoulders bobbing.
"No, it wasn't me at all, uncle Rahab."
The Clan Lord folded his arms over his chest and looked down at his niece over the bridge of his spectacles. "Oh, really? Then tell me who exactly?"
Twisting a black quill in her hands, Clara wiped the bit of ink off on her white petticoat. Rahab winced and sympathized with the servant that would have to make the attempt at taking that stain out. Clara wore underneath the petticoat a light blue dress with long sleeves and frills at the wrists, an added touch that Clara loved. She looked sweet and innocent, incapable of doing any wrong, but anyone who fell for that knew nothing about her. Clara's mind was sharp; sharper than most children Rahab had come across. And it wasn't pride for his niece that made him come to this conclusion, it was the truth.
"It was the ghost who haunts grandpa's throne room."
Rahab sighed, massaging his brows. The chalk on his talons was transferred onto his pale face and that made Clara laugh. "The ghost, Ariel, cannot leave the Pillars, Clara. So how could she be here in the Drowned Abbey then if she could not leave the Pillars?" This little line of logic made Clara frown for a moment, trying to think up a convincing lie for her uncle no doubt.
"I do not know," she finally spoke. Clara looked down at the quill in her hands, and then drew something on the parchment in front of her. Rahab gave a stiff smile and turned back to the board.
"Do not throw any more papers in class, Clara." Rahab finished writing down what was needed, then dropped the chalk on his own desk, which seemed to groan under the weight of all the tomes he had stacked atop one another. Sitting down, Rahab selected one of his historical tomes and cleared his throat to speak. He had been teaching Clara since the beginning of last autumn, enjoying every moment of it. Finally, someone who would willingly listen to what he said and what he taught, an impressionable mind that Rahab could fill with all the knowledge of Nosgoth itself. Clara had borrowed more than enough books from his extensive library, massive volumes that Rahab knew she could not read yet, but she carried them around with her either way to give people the impression that she was smart for her young age. Rahab knew he would not see those books for a time yet but that did not concern him in the least.
"Open your book 'Early History of Nosgoth' to page 65, Clara." The child grabbed the blue leather bound tome from a pile beside her and quickly flipped through the pages until she came to the same section her uncle was at.
"'The Oppression of the Vampires Under Sarafan Rule,'" Clara read the chapter title slowly, partially because the gothic letters were hard to read and also because she did not wish to stumble and appear stupid.
"In the days before the Pillars of Nosgoth fell, vampires and humans lived together in Nosgoth side by side. But the Holy Order of the Sarafan, a monastic sect of monks, feared the vampires and persecuted them," Rahab spoke in a strong voice. "With the Circle of Nine behind them, an oligarchy of powerful sorcerers, the Sarafan warriors slew the vampires in the most horrible of ways. Pyres burned day and night; whole vampire families were wiped out. One method of torture the Sarafan employed was staking the vampire through the chest, then leaving him or her to die once the sun rose."
Clara raised a hand up in the air and waved it from side to side. Even if she was the only other being in the room, she acted as if there were others clamoring for her uncle's immediate attention. Rahab looked up from the history book and gazed at his niece. "Yes Clara?"
"Would the Sarafan do that to my father if they caught him," she whispered. Clara looked at a few of the illustrations on the next couple of pages with disbelieving eyes.
The scholarly vampire nodded. "Yes Clara, they would have."
"But my daddy is nice to people, even the human servants," she bashed a fist into the book, right above an inked illustration of a Sarafan warrior standing over the prone form of a vampire. "Those Sarafan are," Clara quickly leafed through a dictionary beside her to look for a proper word, "imbeciles! They don't even care what a vampire feels then, do they, uncle Rahab?"
He shook his head. "The Sarafan only cared in making the vampires feel pain and agony; everything else was useless Clara."
"Would they have hurt you too, uncle Rahab, as well as my other uncles?" Rahab nodded. Clara's face became slightly paler. For a moment the Clan Lord wondered if he should be teaching Clara something like this. But knowledge was power, and the more she learned from an earlier age then the more understanding she would have of the world around her. The daughter of Melchiah gave a sudden grin and wrote something down of her parchment. "But those Sarafan wouldn't be able to take out grandfather, would they then? Because he's far too powerful with his magical sword, isn't he?"
"The Soul Reaver? Oh yes, Lord Kain is indeed very dominant with the Reaver by his side. Did you know that he in fact fought against the Sarafan, Clara? When he was younger, just as I fought against the Sarafan once too."
Rahab could see that he now had his niece's complete attention. It would be anything short of the Abbey windows smashing and the waters flooding into the library to get her to look at anything else. "Tell me, tell me," she chirped. "Daddy does all the time, as well as uncle Dumah but I want to hear what happened to you when you fought against the evil Sarafan."
Adjusting his glasses the Clan Lord gave something between a sigh and a laugh. What could he tell Clara? There were some things that she would never learn about her uncles or her father, the darker sides of life that were better left alone. But Rahab did recall an almost hysterical tale that involved him and some of his Rahabim fledglings. He leaned forwards in his chair and winked at Clara. "Well, I do have one funny story for you. It was when a few of my fledglings and I were heading back here to the Drowned Abbey as the sun was beginning to rise in the sky. We needed to hurry because as you know I cannot stand the light of the sun as well as others can." Clara folded her hands on the desk and tipped the chair she sat in forwards, straining to catch every word. "But as we were heading around the last bend on the road, right on the bridge running straight to my palace was a patrol of Sarafan warriors."
"What did you do?"
"What could we do? I needed to get home with my fledglings. Oh, there were many Sarafan knights, all of them heavily armoured and carrying weapons that would make your hair stand on end at the sight of them. They clogged the bridge." Rahab embellished the tale a little; there had not been enough Sarafan to obstruct the bridge, only twelve in all. But they were elite cavalry, and their horses had caught the scent of vampires in the air. "I ordered all of my Rahabim to bring their weapons to bear. It we were to die, then we would take them all down with us."
"But you didn't die," Clara interjected.
"I know, but let me finish the story," Rahab admonished her gently. "The Sarafan charged at us, their battle cries ringing through the morning air. And we waited on the pathway to home as they came at us. Then on my signal, we all dived into the water and vanished from view."
Clara raised one eyebrow. "You played the coward, uncle Rahab? I bet uncle Dumah never let you live it down."
"Ah, but hear me out. The Sarafan know that all vampires cannot stand the water, which we die at the very touch of. But obviously they did not know that Clan Rahabim loved water above all else and that we can survive in it. So the Sarafan looked at the ripples in the water and assumed that we had all died." Rahab chuckled at the memory. "I swam swiftly in the currents with my fledglings, moving behind the Sarafan. When they turned back to the Abbey to once again block the bridge, they found us waiting there. True we were all wet, but Clara, you should have seen the look on those humans' faces. For all their bravado and highly flaunted courage, the Sarafan screamed like children and took off on their horses. They did not think of us as vampires anymore but as demons."
Rahab began to laugh as he remembered. "Then what happened," Clara demanded, standing on her chair and looking at her new favorite uncle.
"Simple. We chased after them and killed them." The little girl clapped her hands and smiled.
"So those Sarafan got what they deserved, trying to kill all those vampires who weren't going to hurt anyone at all. If I were there, I would throw a rock at their heads like uncle Raziel taught me to. And then I would give them a pow and a bash in the head!" Clara imitated punching a Sarafan in the air, then picking up one of her books and hitting another one in the chest. "They wouldn't hurt my family."
"I am sure none of them would have gotten past you, Clara. You are much too sweet. Now sit down and we will continue-" The library doors opened before the vampire lord could complete his sentence. Standing in the doorway were two young fledglings, both looking no older than Clara's age. They bowed quickly to their lord and master, and then turned their attention to Clara.
"Clara, we found some crabs washed up on the shoreline. Do you want to come and kick them back into the waves with us," the first one asked.
"Some are this big," the second one added, stretching his arms out as far as they could go.
"No crabs can grow that big," Clara countered. "It is scienti-" She paused for a moment, then continued, "-cally impossible."
"It is not," the two fledglings spoke at once, a defensive tone in their voices. Rahab let this little exchange continue for another minute, then cleared his throat loudly and stood. Immediately the children fell silent, but Clara wore a smug expression on her face since she felt her uncle was about to tell them such a thing was indeed impossible.
"There is a class going on here at the moment. If you have nothing better to do, then I suggest you leave until Clara is finished her studies." Rahab motioned towards the hourglass, the white sand only halfway drained. The two fledglings muttered an apology, bowed again and closed the doors behind them. Rahab turned back to the history lesson with Clara but he could see that she was not involved. Going through her eight-year-old mind was the question on just how big those crabs might actually be and what she was missing. Rahab glanced at the hourglass again, noting that even in two hours they had covered more than enough information in one day.
He closed his tome and placed the hourglass on its side. Clara was writing something down, but she looked up at her uncle from the comer of her eyes without trying to appear too obvious. "Class is adjourned, Clara. But I want you to do something for me," Rahab continued as his niece quickly packed up her books and paper. "I was you to find out exactly if this crab really is as big as said to be, then take measurements as well. Then I would like you to write a brief description about the crabs washing up on shore, give a few reasons why they might be doing this, and see if there are any myths pertaining to giant crabs in Nosgoth." Rahab smiled. "I want it handed to me by the time we meet next week for your next lesson."
The Clan Lord swore Clara raced out of the library faster than he could ever give her credit for. Although she wished to learn, Clara was still a child at heart and desired to play with her friends as well. Rahab could hear her calling down the hallway for her friends to wait up for her. Standing up and stretching, he erased what was written on the blackboard, wiped his glasses on his cape and walked over to Clara's desk to see what she had written. Instead of taking notes she had instead drawn a small picture of her wearing her father's armour with the Soul Reaver in one hand. And tiny stickmen representing the Sarafan crushed underneath her feet. The scholarly vampire did not know what to make of it but he kept it all the same.
* * * *
"I believe I still have that drawing she made somewhere in one of my books. If you wish I could give it to you, Melchiah."
The youngest Lieutenants shook his head. "No, that is alright, Rahab. I know that deep down you want to keep that drawing she made and besides, I have quite a few." Melchiah pointed to the rolled up and yellowed parchment. Rahab chuckled.
"She did have a flair for drawing."
"So did Clara ever hand in that report about the crabs? I recall that she indeed took a few home with her but the nature of how she brought them home was none to pleasing for myself or for her nurse."
Rahab paused. "Oh, do tell."
Melchiah smiled. "Clara took off her dress and made it into a sack to carry the crabs in. When she showed up at home in her undergarments her nurse practically had a fit, as did I. But then what father wouldn't? Clara could have simply asked for a servant."
"Heh, Clara was far too independent. And she never asked for help unless it was truly required." Rahab and Melchiah both jumped as they heard the new voice. Leaning against the door with his arms across his chest and a slight smile on his face was Raziel. Both had not even heard or seen him come in. "I remember you telling me that, Melchiah. And did you not say that Clara went down to the shoreline every day after that to look for the mythical giant crab?"
"She did and if we had not put a stop to it, she would have still been at the shoreline to this day looking of the thing," Rahab responded as he stood. "Well Melchiah, I must take my leave of you. Today I am receiving some new servants and I have to make sure they know what they are to do. A good day to both of up." Clapping Melchiah on the shoulder in support, Rahab walked past Raziel and was gone down the halls of the Melchiahim Clan holdings.
Raziel walked into the chamber, stopping to admire the dresses in the wardrobe and a small jewelry box that was trimmed in gold and ivory. "You only come here when you are in a foul mood, Melchiah."
"My foul mood has lightened somewhat, Raziel. I just recall better times."
"And time slipped past, slipped past / No one knew where it had gone / Down the road of tomorrow and never to return," Raziel quoted a bit from an old poem he enjoyed. "Looking at some of these things reminds me of some thoughts I had almost forgotten."
Melchiah's face was filled with curiosity as Raziel ran a hand over the jewelry box. "What do you mean by that?"
The first-born traced a talon over the ivory carving of a rose on the box. "Like when I gave this to Clara. Every item holds a story. Don't you remember?" Melchiah shook his head. "You have given Clara over to me for a whole week because Kain had ordered you and your soldiers to put down a rebellion near the human Citadel. You did not want Clara to be left in an unguarded palace so you placed her with me for the time being."
"And I can say without even trying to remember that you spoiled her rotten, Raziel." The leader of Clan Razielim only shrugged his muscular shoulders and picked up the jewelry box.
"You only live once. And besides, I would do anything for Clara." Raziel opened up the box and a few strands of music came out. "I would have done anything for my nieceā¦"
"I didn't do it," the eight-year-old girl giggled, covering a mischievous smile with her hands. Sitting down at a mahogany desk in Rahab's massive library that was lit by a few lanterns and candles, the top was covered with books both opened and closed, as well as yellowed scrolls that contained sagas he had instructed her to read. Clara swung her legs from the chair that was a bit too tall for her and tried to give her uncle the most innocent look she could muster.
"Since there is no one else in the room, Clara, logic dictates that it was you and only you who threw it at me." She shook her head, yellow curls that came down to her shoulders bobbing.
"No, it wasn't me at all, uncle Rahab."
The Clan Lord folded his arms over his chest and looked down at his niece over the bridge of his spectacles. "Oh, really? Then tell me who exactly?"
Twisting a black quill in her hands, Clara wiped the bit of ink off on her white petticoat. Rahab winced and sympathized with the servant that would have to make the attempt at taking that stain out. Clara wore underneath the petticoat a light blue dress with long sleeves and frills at the wrists, an added touch that Clara loved. She looked sweet and innocent, incapable of doing any wrong, but anyone who fell for that knew nothing about her. Clara's mind was sharp; sharper than most children Rahab had come across. And it wasn't pride for his niece that made him come to this conclusion, it was the truth.
"It was the ghost who haunts grandpa's throne room."
Rahab sighed, massaging his brows. The chalk on his talons was transferred onto his pale face and that made Clara laugh. "The ghost, Ariel, cannot leave the Pillars, Clara. So how could she be here in the Drowned Abbey then if she could not leave the Pillars?" This little line of logic made Clara frown for a moment, trying to think up a convincing lie for her uncle no doubt.
"I do not know," she finally spoke. Clara looked down at the quill in her hands, and then drew something on the parchment in front of her. Rahab gave a stiff smile and turned back to the board.
"Do not throw any more papers in class, Clara." Rahab finished writing down what was needed, then dropped the chalk on his own desk, which seemed to groan under the weight of all the tomes he had stacked atop one another. Sitting down, Rahab selected one of his historical tomes and cleared his throat to speak. He had been teaching Clara since the beginning of last autumn, enjoying every moment of it. Finally, someone who would willingly listen to what he said and what he taught, an impressionable mind that Rahab could fill with all the knowledge of Nosgoth itself. Clara had borrowed more than enough books from his extensive library, massive volumes that Rahab knew she could not read yet, but she carried them around with her either way to give people the impression that she was smart for her young age. Rahab knew he would not see those books for a time yet but that did not concern him in the least.
"Open your book 'Early History of Nosgoth' to page 65, Clara." The child grabbed the blue leather bound tome from a pile beside her and quickly flipped through the pages until she came to the same section her uncle was at.
"'The Oppression of the Vampires Under Sarafan Rule,'" Clara read the chapter title slowly, partially because the gothic letters were hard to read and also because she did not wish to stumble and appear stupid.
"In the days before the Pillars of Nosgoth fell, vampires and humans lived together in Nosgoth side by side. But the Holy Order of the Sarafan, a monastic sect of monks, feared the vampires and persecuted them," Rahab spoke in a strong voice. "With the Circle of Nine behind them, an oligarchy of powerful sorcerers, the Sarafan warriors slew the vampires in the most horrible of ways. Pyres burned day and night; whole vampire families were wiped out. One method of torture the Sarafan employed was staking the vampire through the chest, then leaving him or her to die once the sun rose."
Clara raised a hand up in the air and waved it from side to side. Even if she was the only other being in the room, she acted as if there were others clamoring for her uncle's immediate attention. Rahab looked up from the history book and gazed at his niece. "Yes Clara?"
"Would the Sarafan do that to my father if they caught him," she whispered. Clara looked at a few of the illustrations on the next couple of pages with disbelieving eyes.
The scholarly vampire nodded. "Yes Clara, they would have."
"But my daddy is nice to people, even the human servants," she bashed a fist into the book, right above an inked illustration of a Sarafan warrior standing over the prone form of a vampire. "Those Sarafan are," Clara quickly leafed through a dictionary beside her to look for a proper word, "imbeciles! They don't even care what a vampire feels then, do they, uncle Rahab?"
He shook his head. "The Sarafan only cared in making the vampires feel pain and agony; everything else was useless Clara."
"Would they have hurt you too, uncle Rahab, as well as my other uncles?" Rahab nodded. Clara's face became slightly paler. For a moment the Clan Lord wondered if he should be teaching Clara something like this. But knowledge was power, and the more she learned from an earlier age then the more understanding she would have of the world around her. The daughter of Melchiah gave a sudden grin and wrote something down of her parchment. "But those Sarafan wouldn't be able to take out grandfather, would they then? Because he's far too powerful with his magical sword, isn't he?"
"The Soul Reaver? Oh yes, Lord Kain is indeed very dominant with the Reaver by his side. Did you know that he in fact fought against the Sarafan, Clara? When he was younger, just as I fought against the Sarafan once too."
Rahab could see that he now had his niece's complete attention. It would be anything short of the Abbey windows smashing and the waters flooding into the library to get her to look at anything else. "Tell me, tell me," she chirped. "Daddy does all the time, as well as uncle Dumah but I want to hear what happened to you when you fought against the evil Sarafan."
Adjusting his glasses the Clan Lord gave something between a sigh and a laugh. What could he tell Clara? There were some things that she would never learn about her uncles or her father, the darker sides of life that were better left alone. But Rahab did recall an almost hysterical tale that involved him and some of his Rahabim fledglings. He leaned forwards in his chair and winked at Clara. "Well, I do have one funny story for you. It was when a few of my fledglings and I were heading back here to the Drowned Abbey as the sun was beginning to rise in the sky. We needed to hurry because as you know I cannot stand the light of the sun as well as others can." Clara folded her hands on the desk and tipped the chair she sat in forwards, straining to catch every word. "But as we were heading around the last bend on the road, right on the bridge running straight to my palace was a patrol of Sarafan warriors."
"What did you do?"
"What could we do? I needed to get home with my fledglings. Oh, there were many Sarafan knights, all of them heavily armoured and carrying weapons that would make your hair stand on end at the sight of them. They clogged the bridge." Rahab embellished the tale a little; there had not been enough Sarafan to obstruct the bridge, only twelve in all. But they were elite cavalry, and their horses had caught the scent of vampires in the air. "I ordered all of my Rahabim to bring their weapons to bear. It we were to die, then we would take them all down with us."
"But you didn't die," Clara interjected.
"I know, but let me finish the story," Rahab admonished her gently. "The Sarafan charged at us, their battle cries ringing through the morning air. And we waited on the pathway to home as they came at us. Then on my signal, we all dived into the water and vanished from view."
Clara raised one eyebrow. "You played the coward, uncle Rahab? I bet uncle Dumah never let you live it down."
"Ah, but hear me out. The Sarafan know that all vampires cannot stand the water, which we die at the very touch of. But obviously they did not know that Clan Rahabim loved water above all else and that we can survive in it. So the Sarafan looked at the ripples in the water and assumed that we had all died." Rahab chuckled at the memory. "I swam swiftly in the currents with my fledglings, moving behind the Sarafan. When they turned back to the Abbey to once again block the bridge, they found us waiting there. True we were all wet, but Clara, you should have seen the look on those humans' faces. For all their bravado and highly flaunted courage, the Sarafan screamed like children and took off on their horses. They did not think of us as vampires anymore but as demons."
Rahab began to laugh as he remembered. "Then what happened," Clara demanded, standing on her chair and looking at her new favorite uncle.
"Simple. We chased after them and killed them." The little girl clapped her hands and smiled.
"So those Sarafan got what they deserved, trying to kill all those vampires who weren't going to hurt anyone at all. If I were there, I would throw a rock at their heads like uncle Raziel taught me to. And then I would give them a pow and a bash in the head!" Clara imitated punching a Sarafan in the air, then picking up one of her books and hitting another one in the chest. "They wouldn't hurt my family."
"I am sure none of them would have gotten past you, Clara. You are much too sweet. Now sit down and we will continue-" The library doors opened before the vampire lord could complete his sentence. Standing in the doorway were two young fledglings, both looking no older than Clara's age. They bowed quickly to their lord and master, and then turned their attention to Clara.
"Clara, we found some crabs washed up on the shoreline. Do you want to come and kick them back into the waves with us," the first one asked.
"Some are this big," the second one added, stretching his arms out as far as they could go.
"No crabs can grow that big," Clara countered. "It is scienti-" She paused for a moment, then continued, "-cally impossible."
"It is not," the two fledglings spoke at once, a defensive tone in their voices. Rahab let this little exchange continue for another minute, then cleared his throat loudly and stood. Immediately the children fell silent, but Clara wore a smug expression on her face since she felt her uncle was about to tell them such a thing was indeed impossible.
"There is a class going on here at the moment. If you have nothing better to do, then I suggest you leave until Clara is finished her studies." Rahab motioned towards the hourglass, the white sand only halfway drained. The two fledglings muttered an apology, bowed again and closed the doors behind them. Rahab turned back to the history lesson with Clara but he could see that she was not involved. Going through her eight-year-old mind was the question on just how big those crabs might actually be and what she was missing. Rahab glanced at the hourglass again, noting that even in two hours they had covered more than enough information in one day.
He closed his tome and placed the hourglass on its side. Clara was writing something down, but she looked up at her uncle from the comer of her eyes without trying to appear too obvious. "Class is adjourned, Clara. But I want you to do something for me," Rahab continued as his niece quickly packed up her books and paper. "I was you to find out exactly if this crab really is as big as said to be, then take measurements as well. Then I would like you to write a brief description about the crabs washing up on shore, give a few reasons why they might be doing this, and see if there are any myths pertaining to giant crabs in Nosgoth." Rahab smiled. "I want it handed to me by the time we meet next week for your next lesson."
The Clan Lord swore Clara raced out of the library faster than he could ever give her credit for. Although she wished to learn, Clara was still a child at heart and desired to play with her friends as well. Rahab could hear her calling down the hallway for her friends to wait up for her. Standing up and stretching, he erased what was written on the blackboard, wiped his glasses on his cape and walked over to Clara's desk to see what she had written. Instead of taking notes she had instead drawn a small picture of her wearing her father's armour with the Soul Reaver in one hand. And tiny stickmen representing the Sarafan crushed underneath her feet. The scholarly vampire did not know what to make of it but he kept it all the same.
* * * *
"I believe I still have that drawing she made somewhere in one of my books. If you wish I could give it to you, Melchiah."
The youngest Lieutenants shook his head. "No, that is alright, Rahab. I know that deep down you want to keep that drawing she made and besides, I have quite a few." Melchiah pointed to the rolled up and yellowed parchment. Rahab chuckled.
"She did have a flair for drawing."
"So did Clara ever hand in that report about the crabs? I recall that she indeed took a few home with her but the nature of how she brought them home was none to pleasing for myself or for her nurse."
Rahab paused. "Oh, do tell."
Melchiah smiled. "Clara took off her dress and made it into a sack to carry the crabs in. When she showed up at home in her undergarments her nurse practically had a fit, as did I. But then what father wouldn't? Clara could have simply asked for a servant."
"Heh, Clara was far too independent. And she never asked for help unless it was truly required." Rahab and Melchiah both jumped as they heard the new voice. Leaning against the door with his arms across his chest and a slight smile on his face was Raziel. Both had not even heard or seen him come in. "I remember you telling me that, Melchiah. And did you not say that Clara went down to the shoreline every day after that to look for the mythical giant crab?"
"She did and if we had not put a stop to it, she would have still been at the shoreline to this day looking of the thing," Rahab responded as he stood. "Well Melchiah, I must take my leave of you. Today I am receiving some new servants and I have to make sure they know what they are to do. A good day to both of up." Clapping Melchiah on the shoulder in support, Rahab walked past Raziel and was gone down the halls of the Melchiahim Clan holdings.
Raziel walked into the chamber, stopping to admire the dresses in the wardrobe and a small jewelry box that was trimmed in gold and ivory. "You only come here when you are in a foul mood, Melchiah."
"My foul mood has lightened somewhat, Raziel. I just recall better times."
"And time slipped past, slipped past / No one knew where it had gone / Down the road of tomorrow and never to return," Raziel quoted a bit from an old poem he enjoyed. "Looking at some of these things reminds me of some thoughts I had almost forgotten."
Melchiah's face was filled with curiosity as Raziel ran a hand over the jewelry box. "What do you mean by that?"
The first-born traced a talon over the ivory carving of a rose on the box. "Like when I gave this to Clara. Every item holds a story. Don't you remember?" Melchiah shook his head. "You have given Clara over to me for a whole week because Kain had ordered you and your soldiers to put down a rebellion near the human Citadel. You did not want Clara to be left in an unguarded palace so you placed her with me for the time being."
"And I can say without even trying to remember that you spoiled her rotten, Raziel." The leader of Clan Razielim only shrugged his muscular shoulders and picked up the jewelry box.
"You only live once. And besides, I would do anything for Clara." Raziel opened up the box and a few strands of music came out. "I would have done anything for my nieceā¦"
