Stacey’s balance left her.
“Good means ‘life affirming.’” The old woman’s mouth had not moved. “Evil is selfish. It disregards life. Then which is good: order or chaos?”
Stacey did not answer because it took work and time to accept what the glow showed her—that despite similarities of tone and accent, the voice that answered came not from her ancient hostess but from the horn in the old woman’s lap.
Stacey remembered another triad who listened to voices from a cone of sorts, a crater in Central Park, as the sun went down that day. She had joined another conclave. She really was a part of this.
Surprise and fear have ways of making one speechless.
About the author
John Thrasher is a lawyer living in Indianapolis, Indiana. He finally began writing fantasies for a hobby in 1993, at the age of 42, when he should have been the answer to life, the universe and everything. Now he is older and wise enough to guess he has to make a world up to know it all. So he still does.
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