Sister of the Brotherhood, by author Ginny Patrick, Narrated by Jade Lazlow
Description
Read MoreVocal Characteristics
Language
EnglishVoice Age
Young Adult (18-35)Accents
North American (General) North American (US General American - GenAM)Transcript
Note: Transcripts are generated using speech recognition software and may contain errors.
exhaustion tugged. At least that's eyelids. She must listen, or Geralyn would chastise her later for not paying attention to the foretelling. But the baby's a son and daughter of the same birth had been up most of the night, and she was to attuned to their infant minds to sleep through their cries. Though the wet nurse had been on hand to care for them, Lizette insisted upon taking her turn, pacing the floor, trying to coax the newborns back to sleep. She clamped her teeth together to suppress a yawn and fixed her eyes on the scene before her gathered around an open area in the center of the room, a dozen or so well dressed men fix their attention on an old woman with a face like a prune. The seer, chanting in a low, coarse voice, unfastened the wrapping from one of two bundles and withdrew a gnarled staff the length of her own leg. She tapped the staff, gently dislodging the excess powder, then turned to the first infant. The staff passed slowly over Lizette, sleeping son once, twice thrice, while the chanting grew soft, then loud, then soft again. As the staff completed its third past, The old woman dashed it to the floor. One of the watchers jerked at the clatter, blue powder scattered and the rod rolled a short distance across the polished flagstones. Before coming to a stop. The old woman knelt beside the powder, careful not to touch it, and peered at the pattern through half closed eyelids. No one in the room dared to breathe less. They disturb her. Lizette glanced at her husband. Geralyn stood with his hands resting on a narrow table, a wine goblet before him. His jaw bulged as he watched the seer, though occasionally he glanced toward the other men in the room as though to assure himself that everyone was attending to his sons for telling his guests in town. Toe Witness Tomorrow's naming ceremony all gave proper attention to the ritual. When she finished her examination of the powder, the woman straightened and turned to face Jeralyn. The child will come to adulthood strong and healthy, rheumy eyes fixed on a point somewhere above his head. He will wear his father's name with bride and to the wealth of that name. I see opportunities in his life never before available to his bloodline. He will touch three crowns, though none will be his to wear. The seer bowed her head loud. Applause burst from the onlookers, and the men flanked Geralyn to clap his back. A successful for telling three crowns, Lizette smiled and dipped her head at the congratulations offered to her. A swell. What could the message mean? Perhaps her son would serve three of this kingdom's monarchs, which may pretend either a long life for him or short ones for the kings? Or might they be kings from three different kingdoms? A disturbing thought? The Lizette sense nothing but pride in her husband's mind. Geralyn was not frustrated at the lack of information in this foretelling. As she waas, she stifled a sigh. That was the problem with prophecies. Too often they merely hinted at the future, and interpretations varied widely from person to person. A reputable profit never interpreted, thereby avoiding unpleasant consequences and accountability. A swell And now my daughter, Geralyn, gestured for the servers to clean the powder from the floor. Lizette signaled for the wet nurse to take the boy to the nursery, and the stout woman bundled the sleeping infant away. The remaining babe slept soundly in her basket. Angelic in appearance, Lizette suppressed another yawn. This same child had not been so angelic in the early hours of the morning when she should have been letting the household sleep. When every speck of powder had been cleared away, the seer took a staff from the second bundle. Lizette watched the rod Passover, the babe, while the same mysterious chanting echoed in the chamber. Again, the staff clattered to the floor. This time it rolled farther than the last, leaving a trail of powder and the floor the length of a man. The old woman cocked her head and hesitated before she knelt. Her glazed eyes moved as she inspected every segment of the design.