Posting of actual content!

[hsavinien]

Ficbit from a story called The Midwife.  I may eventually finish it.  PG.

 

 

Mara sighed deeply.  “Ralliam Werin, I forbid you to proselytize at a funeral.  I absolutely forbid it.”  Sometimes the healer suspected that the average intelligence of the county, and possibly of the nation, would increase noticeably at Ralli’s death.

The soulfully handsome young man looked aggrieved.  “I wish to save their souls!  How better than to entreat in the name of their dear one that they be saved his fate?”

“To begin, I gather the person in question was very elderly and died peacefully in her sleep.  She left her relations a comfortable legacy.  They believe that she even now trades tales with her ancestors.  And, finally, you have the tact of an oyster.  You will not try to convert the cleric, enlist the relatives, or otherwise turn the funeral to the glory of the almighty Rean.”

“May-his-name-ever-shine,” Ralli added reproachfully.

“To ensure your good behavior, I swear to y’ now that if you don’t behave yourself, you’ll be going your own way.  Eating your own cooking.”

The final stipulation, upon which Mara had placed a certain emphasis, made Ralli pale.

“Yes, mistress,” he whispered meekly, making an elaborate gesture at the clouds that was apparently meant to apologize to Rean (may-his-name-ever-shine) for his acolyte’s weakness in the face of certain illness.

Mara sighed and turned down the road, away from the inn.  The man followed her meekly, with an expression like a tortured poet’s adorning his handsome face.