Hieronymus flinched under the scratchy material, pulling his cloak tightly around himself in an attempt to escape the irritation he knew it would cause his skin. He peered through the slats, squinting.
"The artist deals with what cannot be said in words. The artist whose medium is fiction does this in words. The novelist says in words what cannot be said in words." --Ursula K. Le Guin
Kivvien pulled up his hood, eyeing the dark clouds that hung in the skies he was going to be walking toward. A storm was precisely what he didn't need now of all times.
Soon enough, they passed the edge of town and into the country beyond it.
Hieronymus took the opportunity to look around for any books that might be nearby, packed or unpacked. He was quickly growing bored and didn't want to risk talking until they were well away from civilization.
"The artist deals with what cannot be said in words. The artist whose medium is fiction does this in words. The novelist says in words what cannot be said in words." --Ursula K. Le Guin
There was a plain leatherbound book hidden under the blankets. Inside, there were detailed accounts of repeated experiments involving tissue samples from demons, complete with sketched diagrams.
Hieronymus located that without much trouble and nestled down in his apparatus to read it. Was this a journal belonging to Kivvien, perhaps, or something he was borrowing? Either way it was incredibly detailed and utterly fascinating. Hieronymus's master would certainly be interested in this sort of information, if Kivvien was willing to share it.
"The artist deals with what cannot be said in words. The artist whose medium is fiction does this in words. The novelist says in words what cannot be said in words." --Ursula K. Le Guin
"The artist deals with what cannot be said in words. The artist whose medium is fiction does this in words. The novelist says in words what cannot be said in words." --Ursula K. Le Guin
Kivvien led the mule that way. "What purpose were you created for, homunculus?" he asked finally. The nasty little thing looked to be largely useless. If Kivvien himself were so lacking in judgement as to make something of that sort, he would have considered this particular specimen a failure and disposed of it.
"I was created to assist my master with reading once his eyes went," Hieronymus responded promptly. "My eyes came out rather more misshapen than he would have liked but they function quite well! And I was gifted with an excellent memory."
"The artist deals with what cannot be said in words. The artist whose medium is fiction does this in words. The novelist says in words what cannot be said in words." --Ursula K. Le Guin
"He asked me to read several volumes to him in the final days, regarding methods of immortalization through occult practices. It was quite fascinating material, frankly. I don't know why he would wish to read such things--he never shared much with me--but I believe he attempted to perform a spell related to this research. He would not awaken the next morning, and he has appeared completely stagnant and unresponsive these past six months now."
"The artist deals with what cannot be said in words. The artist whose medium is fiction does this in words. The novelist says in words what cannot be said in words." --Ursula K. Le Guin
So it was worse than he'd thought. "You master is a fool," Kivvien said bluntly. He was beginning to once again question this decision. Someone who would make such a choice, pursue immortality of all horrid things, and with no assistant or partner to monitor his work as well. There was little more foolish than that.
"I--" Hieronymus boosted himself up. "You have no idea the genius he has accomplished in his lifetime," he sputtered. "He created me when all of his colleagues argued against it. He has cured countless ailments with an ingenious combination of both magic and alchemy. His spell worked, albeit with unexpected results. And do you know why he seeks immortality? You haven't yet thought to ask, so quick are you to pass judgement on my poor master! For shame."
"The artist deals with what cannot be said in words. The artist whose medium is fiction does this in words. The novelist says in words what cannot be said in words." --Ursula K. Le Guin
Kivvien glanced back at the little thing in pity and disgust. Nothing that it said excused its master's horrid actions. But Kivvien would not blame a dog for worshiping its master, so he chose to ignore the petulant tone and blind worship the thing spouted.
"Of course it matters! Immortality for the sake of power is evil. Immortality out of fear of dying is cowardice. But my master has such skill in his craft that he knows to die now would be to rob the world of what he could do for it. He is taking on this hefty burden on behalf of all the people he knows he can help." Hieronymus was growing short of breath, and he paused for a moment. "You of all people must understand. This book--" He gestured to the journal he had been reading. "This shows you have passion just like that. You must be able to sympathize! Imagine if you were making all these discoveries at the age of eighty and knew your time was short. Would you not try to prolong your life to finish your work?"
"The artist deals with what cannot be said in words. The artist whose medium is fiction does this in words. The novelist says in words what cannot be said in words." --Ursula K. Le Guin
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