Blood of the Wizard (Book 1)
“Here in the cool afternoon light, Dhal gave me her tale.
It is not a glorious tale, she told me. But I suppose it is somewhat romantic, in its own sad way. And I’ll say this, most people, whether they have a good life or a bad life, cannot put the “where” and “why” together to know exactly how it all come to where they were. I can, for I have only the narrative of how I came to be. You see, it is in the telling that a life gains a sense of direction. To see it, to be a part of it, one... is often blind to its arcs and its themes. We are more than our tales, handsome, just as we are more than our names. But our names identify our person. And our tales identify our lives. At any rate, my father was a handsome man, a trader, I am told.MoreLess
It is not a glorious tale, she told me. But I suppose it is somewhat romantic, in its own sad way. And I’ll say this, most people, whether they have a good life or a bad life, cannot put the “where” and “why” together to know exactly how it all come to where they were. I can, for I have only the narrative of how I came to be. You see, it is in the telling that a life gains a sense of direction. To see it, to be a part of it, one... is often blind to its arcs and its themes. We are more than our tales, handsome, just as we are more than our names. But our names identify our person. And our tales identify our lives. At any rate, my father was a handsome man, a trader, I am told.MoreLess
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