Audiobook Narration
Description
Vocal Characteristics
Language
EnglishVoice Age
Young Adult (18-35)Accents
North American (General)Transcript
Note: Transcripts are generated using speech recognition software and may contain errors.
Prologue. A silence of three parts. It was night again. The way stone in lay in silence. And it was a silence of three parts. The most obvious part was a hollow, echoing quiet made by things that we're lacking. If there had been a wind, it would have side through the trees, set the in signed creaking on its hooks, and brushed the silence down the road like trailing in autumn leaves. If there had been a crowd, even a handful of men inside the in, they would have filled the silence with conversation and laughter. The clatter and clamor one expects from a drinking house during the dark hours of night, if there had been music, but no, of course there was no music. In fact, there were none of these things. And so the silence remained Inside the waist own. A pair of men huddled at one corner of the bar. They drank with quiet determination, avoiding serious discussions of troubling news. In doing this, they added a small, sullen silence to the larger Hollow one. It made an alloy of sorts a counterpoint. The third silence was not an easy thing to notice. If you listened for an hour, you might begin to feel it in the wooden floor underfoot, and in the rough splintering barrels behind the bar. It was in the wave of the black stone hearth that held the heat of the long dead fire. It was in the slow back and forth of a white linen cloth rubbing along the grain of the bar. And it was in the hands of the man who stood there polishing the stretch of mahogany that already gleaned in the lamplight. The man had true red hair, red as flame, his eyes were dark and distant, and he moved with a subtle certainty that comes from knowing many things the way stone was his. Just as the third silence was his. This was appropriate, as it was the greatest silence of the three, wrapping the others inside itself. It was deep and quiet as autumns ending. It was heavy as a great river, smooth stone. It was the patient, cut flower sound of a man who was waiting to die.