The head of the House looked gravely down at the newborn twins. They were both crying. The raven on his shoulder cawed morosely.
The mother of the twins looked up, wide-eyed. "What did he say?" she asked, breathless.
"He complained of the noise," replied her father tonelessly. She immediately set about trying to quiet them. "But that's not what he asked for me to say." She looked back up expectantly.
"The Raven is pleased," he said, closing his eyes briefly. Then they snapped open again. "Which is the younger?"
"This one, I think," she said, not looking altogether sure, but holding the baby out anyways.
"His name is Telikos. The other is not important. They must be separated."
The mother tried not to let the alarm and dismay show on her face. "Separated? What do you mean? Permanently?"
"They must never meet. It is at the Raven's command." He closed his eyes again.
"But why?" She asked, trying to sound merely curious, but her throat was tight.
He opened his eyes to menacing slits and turned a stony gaze upon her. "It is at the Raven's command," he repeated. He turned instantly and left, his cloak streaming dramatically out behind him. When he was out of hearing distance, his daughter burst into tears.
---
The birth of twins to the Gifted House was quite an event, in all planes. There were no other children in the House, nor were there likely to be; the Raven had forbidden it "until further notice." To disobey was unthinkable.
It was a grim place for childhood. The servants of Death had little use for youthful enthusiasm, when it was not engaged in the business of the Raven. Telikos learned to be quiet
The mother of the twins looked up, wide-eyed. "What did he say?" she asked, breathless.
"He complained of the noise," replied her father tonelessly. She immediately set about trying to quiet them. "But that's not what he asked for me to say." She looked back up expectantly.
"The Raven is pleased," he said, closing his eyes briefly. Then they snapped open again. "Which is the younger?"
"This one, I think," she said, not looking altogether sure, but holding the baby out anyways.
"His name is Telikos. The other is not important. They must be separated."
The mother tried not to let the alarm and dismay show on her face. "Separated? What do you mean? Permanently?"
"They must never meet. It is at the Raven's command." He closed his eyes again.
"But why?" She asked, trying to sound merely curious, but her throat was tight.
He opened his eyes to menacing slits and turned a stony gaze upon her. "It is at the Raven's command," he repeated. He turned instantly and left, his cloak streaming dramatically out behind him. When he was out of hearing distance, his daughter burst into tears.
---
The birth of twins to the Gifted House was quite an event, in all planes. There were no other children in the House, nor were there likely to be; the Raven had forbidden it "until further notice." To disobey was unthinkable.
It was a grim place for childhood. The servants of Death had little use for youthful enthusiasm, when it was not engaged in the business of the Raven. Telikos learned to be quiet
