Part 6
Out into the snowy night Stepped Isaac, bundled in his cloak, Pushing up his glasses ‘midst his soft dark brown hair. “I won’t be gone all that long,” He said, and glanced back through the door At all four Elementals spread across his open room. “I just think I’ll grab a drink; I need it, after this long week.” “Why can’t we come?” Ardo asked. “You’re far too young,” said Isaac then. “I’m off to the tavern, which is not that far away. There’s some soda water sitting In the ice outside the back If you really want to sip on something for a change.” “Have a good time!” Marin said, Her blue eyes sparkling. Isaac shrugged, and waved goodbye, And softly shut the door. Doing this he plodded through the snow That now fell down, Still fell down just barely, so much softer than before. “Won’t the snowing ever stop?” he said, and skyward glanced. He thought he saw a flicker, Movement in the sky above. But he blinked, and what he might have seen was now long gone. So he shrugged And hurried on Throughout the dark and snowy streets Lit only partly by the light ‘twas pouring out of homes. At last he reached a well-lit place Where light and mirth had clearly been And still were now, just based upon The noise that he could hear. Above the door a sign was hung, A heart-shape that was torn top-down, And in bold letters said below, “The Broken Heart Tavern.” Isaac chuckled, not for the first time At that ominous sign And why it was that such a cheery place Had such a name. But cheery it much was, As he pushed in its wooden door, Revealing a space dimly lit, But warm and friendly-looked. Great vast barrels with their silver taps Were seen behind a board And bottles of all sorts of things Were stacked on top of shelves. “Isaac!” said a portly man With apron white, and hair bright red Who stood behind the great wide board And washed a dirty glass. “Hello there, Mister LaGrange,” Said Isaac as he settled down Into a plush and comfy stool That sat before the board. “Shall I get you your usual, dear boy?” LaGrange replied, and then Without a word went to a silver tap that bloomed Out of the barrel And with a great glass made haste To sate his guest’s demand. “Thanks, thank you, sir,” Said Isaac as the pint of beer was set Before him with its foaming head That oozed over the top. Isaac took the beer and slanted long against his comfy stool. He made moves to glance about, To see the space in which he sat. All the ceilings were quite high, All the steel beams glinted dull, Hints of gentle circuitry were etched into the walls, While both candles and light bulbs Sent their glow across the space. Isaac glanced into the ceiling, Taking in the cheeriness, Knowing that he was at home Here in this tranquil space. “Pardon me,” a crisp voice said, With shadow moving long, “Did you save this seat for someone? If so, I do not wish to steal it.” “Oh, no,” said Isaac, turning round, Seeing the tall man that stood There Dressed up in a pitch black sweater That was large and heavy, wrapping Round his torso and his arms, With black trousers round his legs That were quite wide, and filled with pockets As was fashionable then. The man was older than was Isaac, Though he had an energy, A health and life and mirth about him That gave off an air of youth. This was so, though he was bald: His head was fully bare, and his Pale skin was glowing gently, Lit up, In the warm and twilit light. He had strong cheekbones, and a sturdy chin That made him masculine But he was also gentle, cautious As he sat at Isaac’s side. “Well, hello!” the bald man said, And smiled, put Isaac at ease. Isaac stared at him, and he was struck by the man’s eyes. These were such a pale gray-blue And so they flashed And glinted sharp That they were really silver-colored, And amid the gloom they seemed to shine. “Hello,” said Isaac to the stranger, Who gave off a kingly air, And at any rate seemed not to be familiar there. “Are you new in town?” “Just for a while,” said the man. “I am staying with some old relations in the city. There are affairs that I must put In order ere I leave again From here, and so I thought I’d try To have some fun meantime. This seems a fine place. Is it so? Do you come here quite often?” “I do,” said Isaac, wrapped up in The stranger’s cordiality, Easily bewitched by his affection and his grace. “If I may ask, what is your name?” “Oh, that’s a question I must think on,” Said the man With glancing gaze. “I think that my name is Autolycus, if you please.” “Oh,” said Isaac, with his brows arisen At the ancient name. “Isn’t that the name of a great thief from long ago?” “Ah!” said Autolycus, With a smile and a barking laugh, “Ha ha! A man who knows his books. Yes, that ancient fellow is my namesake, If you please.” “And are you a thief?” asked Isaac. “That depends,” said Autolycus, And his silver eyes were glinting, Piercing in the gloom. “That depends: do you have anything that is worth stealing? Is there anything of yours that would be worth the chance?” “Oh, well, no,” Said Isaac gently, With a smile and a laugh. “I’m so poor that I can’t even Pay for a space heater for me, For my place, amid this cold and snow That doesn’t seem to end. I’m a candle-maker, with no goods of any consequence. You may rob me, if you like; But you’ll find little wealth.” “Ah, no,” said Autolycus, With a chuckle ‘neath his breath. “We poor, bare folk must stick together, Or the world will eat us whole, And sweep us far away. So, let’s not talk of robbing, not tonight at any rate. Instead, let’s drink to health! I’ll take care of your tab; My relatives will let me pay for that, I think. So your next drink’s on me, as is whatever else you want.” “Oh, well thanks!” said Isaac, Who went smiling, and he hailed the man, The man behind the bar And ordered up another beer. “You know,” said Isaac, With a chuckle, Drinking deep out of his draught, “I could really use this stuff, I’ve had a busy week. I’ve had large deliveries To tend to, And I’ve had to work Near twice as hard to make ends meet, With all the guests that I have had.” “Ha ha! Guests are a two-edged sword,” Said Autolycus with a laugh, “They bless you and they curse you In a nearly equal measure. Their company and joy and love Are boons that one can seldom find. But they are troublesome to put up, And one often sometimes feels That it is better when they’ve gone at last, And left you full alone.” “Oh, well,” said Isaac, laughing, chuckling, “These guests are not all that hard. They are merely children, or not much older than those. They have also been quite conscientious in their staying with me, Keeping their space neat And helping me with household chores.” “Ah,” said Autolycus, “You’re a philanthropic man. Taking in stray orphans from the goodness of your heart. How long will you let them stay?” “I’m not so sure,” said Isaac then, “They seemed like they were on the run When they encountered me. I’m prepared to let them stay as long as they would like. But I sometimes wonder if They will all choose to go away. They were on their own before they met me, And they’ve said to me That they may have to leave someday, For their own good, and mine.” “Hmm,” said Autolycus, with a twinkling In his silver eyes. “So, they were on their own before they met you? Is that quite the truth?” “They were,” said Isaac, Laughing, drinking deep from his large glass. “I don’t mean much to pry,” Said Autolycus, with his pale raised brows, “But are they all boys? All girls? Some large mixture of the two?” “They are an equal mix,” Said Isaac, “Two boys and two girls.” “Are they, now?” Said Autolycus, And at this his eyes grew strange, Their brilliant silver radiance Grew quick, and gleamed with hungry light. But only for a moment—then he changed, and was again a friend, Sipping from his ale As he regarded Isaac there. “So what has brought you here tonight?” “Just visiting,” said Isaac then, “To get away from my house guests, If only for a while. And lately I’ve had quite a lot Upon my mind So I could also Use the solace and the alcohol Just for a while.” “What’s got you so stirred?” asked Autolycus, Glancing sides at him. “Oh it’s just—” “It’s not romance, is it?” “Well--” “Ha! Ah, hahahahaha!” “There’s just a lady who has been Upon my mind these past few weeks. She’s been on my mind before, But never this intense.” “Ah, love,” said Autolycus then, And gazing distantly around, Seeming with his silver eyes To conjure ancient ghosts. “I was once a man in love, But that was very long ago. Who is she? What is she like?” “She’s wonderful,” said Isaac, gasping, Thinking on the loveliness Of Cordelia, with auburn hair, And eyes of such a vibrant green that they would sparkle In the gloom. Thinking of her cheerful laugh, Her smile so bright, and oh so warm. Thinking of her kindness and her gentle, patient love. All of this he told to Autolycus, Who sat list’ning there, Sipping at his beer quite slowly, Silver eyes alert and keen. When at last Isaac was done, The other man said: “Well, indeed, You seem to truly love this girl. But if she’s high-bred, like you say, Then getting with her will be trouble, If not on your end, then hers. Nonetheless I would advise you To persist, against all odds. Love is a tremendous thing, It bears, endures, outlasts the world, It was a Love that made the world, And may, perhaps, make it anew. So love on, Isaac! And keep hope! I think you’ll have Cordelia yet, Or else I’m a romantic fool.”
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