Lost and Found

By G. W. Thomas

"I am bored with my life, wizard," admitted the rich woman. "I am bored with the best clothes, the best food, the best lovers, the best entertainments, even the best drugs. What remains for me?"

"There is sport," replied the Rainbow Man.

"I have beaten them all. With the best trainers in the City I have won every contest."

"There is war."

"I am a woman, therefore denied the right to command an army. Even with my money it is not possible."

"There is art."

"And there are even some things money can not buy. I have no passion, nor any talent."

"Family then."

"Once, but now I am barren."

"Then there is only one option left to you."

"What is that?" wondered the wealthy autocrat.

"Here, take this key. If you would willingly give up all that you have, your wealth, your beauty, your power for what lies in that room, you may unlock that door and enter. What awaits you there I can not tell you--only that you will not be disappointed."

"I accept." The rich woman gave all her moneys and power over to the wizard. She gave up all her earthly beauty and entered an old and ugly hag. The door to the small roomd without sound.

On a table sat three things: a ball, a rose blossom and a piece of parchment. The woman picked up the ball.

"It is the ball you played with in your father's court in Taavst when you were five," supplied the Rainbow Man.

"I lost it down a well. I cried for a week."

The woman picked up the rose, dried and tied with a ribbon.

"That is the blossom given to you by Byral of Bast-il before he left for the Narhulian Wars."

"He was my first and only true love. He took my maidenhead the night before he left. He never came back."

"He died off the Regaulian coast six months later."

"Oh."

The woman picked up the parchment, read the lines written on it.

"The words of your son, Harluchut of Grak. They are good words. Words to make a mother proud, to contemplate in old age."

"Yes, they are good. Thank you," whispered the old woman as she left the room, taking the three objects. She hobbled away slowly, looking at the fresh morning sunshine, humming a tuneless song of simple happiness.

About the Author.

Back to the top of this page.