Spear of Destiny James Baldwin (free romance novels .TXT) 📖

“I was in school for sixteen years. The only way I’ve ever been able to read more than a couple lines is with an... uhh... an assistant reading it out to me. I’ve always had this problem.” I gestured at the page. “I mean, I can see the words. I know they’re words. But the letters move around when I try to look at them.”

“Show me.” She took up her pen, and held it out to me.

“Show you?” I took it, slowly.

She pulled a blank sheet of vellum from a stack not far away, brushed some powder off it, and lay it flat. “I want you to copy three or four lines as you see them. Do not try and write what is really written, but what your eyes show you.”

I was feeling tenser by the minute as I put the pen to the smooth, thick sheet in front of me, and started to awkwardly scratch the letters down. I had no idea if they were right—or if I was even making any sense at all. It took me nearly ten minutes just to put down three lines of large, childish letters, the rows of which were noticeably crooked.

“Hmmm.” Masha gently took the pen from me, and shooed me back. My face flushed as I watched her compare the two copies: my disgusting chicken scratch, and her neat, but incomprehensible lines.

“Like I said, it’s always been a problem,” I stammered. “It’s like they just jump around-”

“Tssshh. You do not need to excuse yourself to me. This is not an exercise intended to cause you embarrassment.” Her brow furrowed as her eyes flicked between the two. “It is fascinating, actually. It is as if you cannot see the spaces between the letters, so you draw the shape they make when combined.”

“Yeah...” The blush had spread to my ears now. “They always blurred together. I kind of just... make them up. Regular school was hell. Korean school was like... quadruple hell. I got thrown out of three different cram schools because I couldn’t wrap my head around Hangul. My dad beat the shit out of me for it.”

“Your father was an idiot. Leave this with me. I think there must be some way to help you be able to read and write,” she said crisply. “I will analyze what you have provided me, and see what I can devise. It may take a while though, eh? A few weeks.”

“You’d... do that?” I blinked a couple of times, not sure I’d heard her right.

“Of course. I’ve taught students who cannot hear or see well. I’ve taught more illiterate students than I can count. Why couldn’t I teach one who merely struggles to see how letters are formed?” She looked up at me, her eyes piercing in the gloom. “You’re bright, Tuun. You have a good memory and an aptitude for medicine. Not to mention, Ignas puts his trust in you, and believe me, His Majesty does not suffer fools.”

“I... uh...” I trailed off, not sure what to say. “Man. Tell that to my parents.”

“Your parents aren’t here, Tuun.” She jabbed a finger at my attempt at writing. “I think that if there is a way to help your eyes see words more clearly, that you will be able to overcome this issue. Because you DO want to take advanced levels in Herbalism and Alchemy, do you not?”

“Yeah.” I nodded enthusiastically. “And Surgery... and Tactics. Like, military strategy and tactics.”

“Then you must be able to read and write.” Masha gave me a small smile. “Leave it with me: I will come back to you when I have thought about it some, and we will test some scribing techniques to see if we can improve your comprehension. You said you can read the Tuun script. Why do you think that is?”

“I... honestly don’t know.” I shrugged. “You know Starborn sort of just arrive in Archemi as adults, right?”

“So I’ve heard. Sprung fully formed, like the little godlings you are.”

I snorted. “Yeah. Well, the first time I saw Tuun script was in Taltos. There was some catacombs underneath, with memorial plaques. Somehow, I could just read them. First time in my life I’ve ever read something without struggling with it for hours.”

“Can you write in Tuun?” She offered me the pen again. “I speak a dialect of that tongue. I will narrate this sentence in Myzsnoan Tuun, and you can write what you hear.”

“I’m pretty sure it’ll be a disaster, but why the hell not? I’ll try.” I shrugged, and bent down.

“Alright: let me see here. Ahem.” Masha cleared her throat. “Jun jage destill tzu kagu, muuzhen gusig tsai Dramuu ob songon mid dem ruun-go sadom,” she said, in accented, but fluent Tuun. “To finish the distillation, you must blend two drams of blue poppy with the rest of the mixture.”

I heard the words. I could bring the written characters to my mind. But as I put the pen down on the vellum, nothing happened. My fingers trembled a bit, and an ink-blot began to spread.

“Uhh... sorry.” I flushed, pulling it back. Then, I rubbed my face. “I can’t.”

“You can’t draw the letters? Or you can’t bring yourself to?”

“I don’t know.” I tried focusing on the first word, jun. It was a simple hook-shaped character. I tried to write, and managed to produce a very wobbly ‘L’.

“Fascinating,” Masha said. “So you have a language you can read, but not write.”

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me.” My face was hot, and I couldn’t help it. “Well, I mean, I DO know. I have dyslexia. It’s... uhh... a disability. Of this.”

“Indeed. It is a disability, surely, but not one that condemns you to a life without the written word.” Masha said, nodding with satisfaction. “Like I said, I will think on it. But