Saturday, July 8, 2017

Whither Goes the Wind--Part 9

Polychrome paced around the Great Hall of the Silver Tower.  "This is... bothersome," she declared aloud, despite the room being empty except for herself.  The truth was that Polychrome was quite used to having people about her and thus tended to act as if they were there even when they weren't.  "This Salamander shouldn't be here!  The Great Maker made it a nice home, and it should be there... doing whatever it is Salamanders do!"  She stomped her feet.  "Oooh.  I tell you, when the Maker made me Chief of the Sylphs, I assumed things would be more pleasant."

The Sylph looked around the room, then glanced at a large cabinet at the end of the hall.  She bit her lip.  "Perhaps... Perhaps I should contact the Maker.  She did say that we could do so in emergencies..."  She shook her head.  "No.  No!  The mirror is for dire need!  Not... annoying little Salamanders being annoying."  The Chief Sylph gave a fervent nod.  "I mustn't fail in my grand task!  It would disappoint the Maker!"

She turned to see Lulea standing there, holding a great mass of something that looked suspiciously like grass.  Polychrome stared at her balefully. "What are you doing here?  And... what is that in your hands?"

"It's... straw," said Lulea.  "I... I really don't know what coal is, and..."  The lower-ranking Sylph gulped then rushed out of the Great Hall.  Polychrome grumbled to herself as she left, wondering if perhaps there was some other place far away she could send Lulea to.  Taking care of her fellows was one of her duties as Chief Sylph, after all.

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