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Summary
Aloth's mother sits behind him, her hands in his hair, and for once in his life, there is no risk of future hurt. She speaks to him in a calm, lilting voice – of vast and varied histories long passed, of infinite futures to come, of magical theorems that connect their souls through it all. It makes him almost drowsy – and he trained himself out of sleeping too deeply long ago, lest his slumber be interrupted by unwanted attention, but a part of him wonders if he could simply… rest here, and not worry about where he will awaken.
… and then, he notices the peasant woman. She looks ordinary, forgettable in her rumpled clothes and hunched posture. On any other occasion, he wouldn’t pay her a second glance – but his vision ripples, and the image solidifies until he can identify long, stringy hair and shadowed eyes. There’s only one possible explanation for that.
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