The Torch
By G. W. Thomas
The Rainbow Man laughed pleasantly when he saw the faded woman in the Street of Pot-Scrubbers. "Hello, Suva. Do you remember me?"
The woman looked up from the offal pile where she was scavenging for meat scraps. "Yes. You once proposed marriage to me at the Coronation of Zamik III."
"And you refused." The words were tinged with sadness. Suva of the House of Agros had not been a stunning beauty but an attractive and sensual princess nonetheless. The Rainbow Man had been a minor adept in the service of her father, Lord Agros. Suva had refused him outright.
"You were not worthy," she hissed.
"But now," the Rainbow Man smiled, "I am a mighty sorcerer. Perhaps the greatest in all the Six Cities."
"Yes, and I am just a scrubber woman. My House was thrown down and broken in the civil war. My kin lie in the necropolis. I am alone, but I survive."
"Nonsense. Come with me. I can conjure whole castles from the air--" Despite the hard grind of many years of destitution, the Rainbow Man still saw the former Suva of the House of Agros beneath the dirt and disease. The torch of his love had not diminished one degree.
The faded wretch picked up her offal meat and shambled down the dirty street. "You are still not worthy."
© 1999 G. W. Thomas. All Rights Reserved.
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