Sinric chuckles and whistles to the happy little drone, laughing as the tune becomes part of the happy cacophony of George's music.
He leads Emcee over to the library. The thick carpets and low roof act to muffle sound, making this a quiet, private space. There are books in almost every language Sinric speaks. Bound volumes, scrolls, parchment leaves. Books of history, mythology, customs. Books of stories and poetry.
The map painted large on one walk shows a fine gilded line, mapping Sinric's travels. He traces the line with a small smile. "It seems such a little distance viewed like this. When this," he measures the silk road, "the span of three hands, took a year to travel."
no subject
He leads Emcee over to the library. The thick carpets and low roof act to muffle sound, making this a quiet, private space. There are books in almost every language Sinric speaks. Bound volumes, scrolls, parchment leaves. Books of history, mythology, customs. Books of stories and poetry.
The map painted large on one walk shows a fine gilded line, mapping Sinric's travels. He traces the line with a small smile. "It seems such a little distance viewed like this. When this," he measures the silk road, "the span of three hands, took a year to travel."