Reblogged from Tallis Steelyard:
That at least was my excuse. I was a poet, but a very young poet. I had few patrons and those I had I tended to cherish because they were all that stood between me and starving in a gutter. Thus I suppose I allowed them greater liberties that I would now. Hence I was foolish enough to allow myself to be caught up in the machinations of Madam Dilant.
Her husband, Poltan Dilant was a cheerful enough old chap. He’d made his living involved in ‘business’ in its widest sense. It was all investment and suchlike, I was never entirely sure which businesses he owned or was invested in. Still it didn’t seem to take up too much of his day. He was also greatly interested in literature and had a fine library. He was the sort of man who could lose himself in a book for hours. Yet he wasn’t a hoarder, he not merely welcomed others into his library, he actively encouraged it.
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