Chapter 12
The Veche Bell Tolls
For weeks, Parfyon battled with dreams as though they were living enemies. Every morning he would wake with no memory of any images, only vague emotions, like echoes, but sleeping exhausted him even more than staying awake. In his waking hours, the physical pain nagged him constantly. But the reality of his crippled state being permanent was far worse.
Still, he waited patiently. Nothing happened for weeks. In the early mornings, he thought the single bell in the center of the Veche square softly chimed from the wind, but it was probably his imagination. The clapper was far too heavy to be moved by a breeze.
Most of the time, he wiled away the hours by listening to the prattle of the people milling about Veche Square. He heard an endless litany of woes c
