“When I was a young boy – perhaps in the year before I started to become a man – I was in love with a beautiful girl.”
The witch doctor’s eyes gleamed like precious stones. They seemed to change colour as he spoke. Every blink seemed to move the hue and shade of his eyes slightly further through the spectrum of orange through red, and then purple and blue.
“What was her name?” Tristram asked. The changes in Dinewan’s eyes intrigued him, but he was not alarmed. It did not even dawn on him that the phenomenon was strange.
Dinewan paused. “Mayrah.”
“What does Mayrah mean?”
Dinewan tilted his head in surprise at the question.
Tristram smiled and shrugged. “The meaning of names is important.”
Crow’s feet tightened about the old man’s eyes.
“It means wind.” Dinewan answered finally. “Whe
