Sic Transit Irving

Sic Transit Irving
By Michael S. Webster

Planting 12, 576 CY — Evening

Irving ignored the glances of suspicion from his party members.

Maybe they will understand. Maybe they would not. It is too late for the pebbles to vote.

Irving sighed as he sat down on a convenient rock.

Don’t forget to take care of your feet.

Sir Vakymri reminded him. Of the spirits in the Mace, he was the most likely to give advice on field hygiene. The frustrating thing was he was always right.

Irving set down the Mace, then his shield and helm. His gauntlets were removed and mounted on sticks to air them out. Then his boots and socks as well. He wiggled his toes in the night air, letting them dry off from the day’s exertions.

Putting a strip of dried antelope meat in his mouth, Irving opened the copy of “The Book of Common Sense” they had rescued from a ruined church in Highport.  

He chewed while reading.

Irving read the same passage three times.

It did not change.

He closed the book.

Harvey hopped up to Irving out of the grasses.

You’re looking for certainty where there is only the offer of comfort.

Irving set the book aside and stroked Harvey between the ears.