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100 Years: A Journey to End a Vicious Cycle

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Mark Baynard

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“Terlu flipped to the end to find a brief note about the authors: Kiela and Caz were the co-owners of a jam shop on the island of Caltrey. Kiela was formerly a librarian at the Great Library of Alyssium, where Caz, a sentient talking spider plant, had been her librarian assistant. She thanked her husband, Larran, as well as a list of friends. Caz thanked his partner, Meep. Yarrow wrapped his arm around her shoulders. She realized she was crying. "He's okay," Terlu said. "I did the right thing.”

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“When I went to Passard's restaurant, the meal began with slices of raw scallop topped with caviar; that reminded me of how shocking it was when Django fed us raw fish all those years ago. Then there was a marvelous Saint-Pierre. Passard had peeled away the skin and prepared the fish with hundreds of bay leaves before covering it back up and steaming the fish until it had absorbed all the flavors of the herb. The man loves herbs and uses them in the most fascinating ways. That also reminded me of Django. There was a fat sweetbread skewered with a sprig of rosemary until it was nothing more than an herbal cloud. And the salad was the tiniest herbs, all different. Beautiful simplicity." Stella was tasting the flavors in her mind as he described them.”

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“He held out his hand to Calliope with her hands on the shoulders of the hooded figure. They stepped forward, and when Cali nudged her up onto the dais, the figure hesitated, but then lifted the hood. Her gaunt face and deep black hair shaded haunted black eyes. A nasty sibilance went through the crowd. “Everyone,” Doc said, “this is Bianca. Bianca, meet New Village.” As Rossi stared--as everyone stared--mouths wide open, Bianca took off her cloak. Her skin on her face, arms and legs was not only pale but gray, with scars that were ash-colored. Her eyes weren’t ringed with mats of goo like the man and animals they had burned before. However, those near the front could see, as her eyes flicked from one side of the amphitheater to the other, a thin line of cruddy black residue lined her eyelids and lashes like a gritty mascara. She was tainted.”

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“Fleet kept running,” Kaladin growled, getting back under Elhokar’s arm. “What?” “He couldn't win, but he kept running. And when the storm caught him, it didn't matter that he’d died, because he’d run for all he had.” “Sure. All right.” The king sounded groggy, though Kaladin couldn't tell if it was the alcohol or the blood loss. “We all die in the end, you see,” Kaladin said. “So I guess what truly matters is just how well you've run. And Elhokar, you've kept running since your father was killed, even if you screw up all the storming time.” “Thank you?” the king said, drowsy.”

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