He paused for a moment, remembering. "There are many such old tales. We try to interperate them, solve them, explain them away, and find meaning in them. But I have always seen their value as observations, and I believe that IS their true value. What we think of them is irrelevant. One might as well try to solve love or fear, let alone greed. They aren't things to be solved. The moment emotion comes under too harsh a scrutiny, it ceases to be comprehensible.
"Then, you are saying," said Damond, "that these are the things that people do. Nothing more."
"Yes," said Brogan, "and in my case, doing battle with the Enemy unto death is my attic."
Shivering, yet oblivious to all but the chill in her heart, Dorain stood on her small, iron-railed balcony, which was on the north side of the House of Wilkin. The balcony commanded a wide view . . . but her whole entire world was crushed into a knot of constricted, raw emotion that made her breast feel as though it must burst. She was furious with herself for allowing this to happen! How could her own body, her own emotions, betray her so easily? And this despite years of
mental and physical discipline?
She had never known loneliness until she met Brogan, but as the years had passed it became increasingly difficult to be too long away from him. Now, finally, things had come to a head. She had abandoned her post, without even a thought, to be with him.