AFFILIATIONS
Fiz was in the cloisters, running a message. He hopped from foot to foot, restless. He stared at the long boned carvings with their flowing robes and wished they would flow just a little more, like water, and join the Verdus. Better that than staring at him like a piece of ordure. He did not belong here, and he knew it. The statues and carvings and curved walls all rubbed it in. The paintings over the archway were better, but not much. All reds and browns. He had no idea what they were for, but suspected hellfire. He hoped no-one was going to tell him to become a monk again: he wasn’t cut out for it. Next time, someone else could run the message to the abbot.
September was the month for bird migration and that month was nearly past. The whole team was outdoors, observing wha
