“(Gnomics, 412) There is a stretch of the North Darthene coastline where the cliffs turn abruptly from brown granite to black basalt, the remains of some ancient lava flow. The beaches along this part of the Darthene Gulf are dark as night, starred with semiprecious stones carried from the gem-bearing headlands of Mimis by the westerly Gulf current. Perched on a bluff behind one of those beaches, two hundred feet above the semicircular cove that harbored its fishing vessels, was a little ...town called Daike. The huddle of slate-roofed houses was home to forty-eight fisherfolk, assorted dogs, cats, goats and chickens, and the town’s Rodmistress, Lior. On the face of it, it might seem odd that a twelve-house town, two hundred miles from anywhere, would have a resident Rodmistress. But Lior had been born in Daike, and fostered by the other fisherfolk there when her parents died of lunglock fever in her early childhood. She had grown up to be a quiet, self-sufficient little girl, her only notable characteristics a preference for her own company and a close-mouthed, matter-of-fact bravery which no one in Daike recognized for the resigned desperation of someone who has already lost everything there is to lose.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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