12
SEEKING
Two days later Lar still lay face down on the covers of a bed that smelled of Liri. He drifted in his depression and did nothing to rouse himself out of it. When Grandfather's ghost emerged from the bookshelf, Lar hardly noticed. As King of the Dead, Lar had never learned to grieve adequately, and it showed. He had not eaten or bathed for days. He struggled to even sleep, for his dreams were filled only with hazy visions of leaves drifting over the empty ground, waiting to erupt into flames, but there was nothing to ignite the fire, releasing them into the heavens.
Grandfather found him there wallowing on the third day and would have no more. “What in the name of the Wise Ones are you doing, boy!” the ghost bellowed at him and Lar barely twitched. “Get out of that bed and cle
