Next to him the scroll of paper, its wax seal broken, flutters slightly in the breeze. Ben stares across the chasm to the land on the other side, and he does not give any indication of knowing that I’m there. I don’t want to sit on the edge of the cliff, so I sit a little bit behind him and try to think of what to say. I look at the scroll of paper. I can just make out the first word on it, writ- ten in an old- fashioned, curly- cue handwriting. The word is Benedict, followed by a dash. It’s a letter, I think. “Do you know how I got involved in all of this?” Ben asks abruptly. It saves me the effort of coming up with something to say to him. “How?” I respond and watch him as he speaks, never taking his eyes off the horizon he’s looking at. “It involved water,” he says, his tone flat and dry. “It was the only way he could get me to stay still long enough to listen to him. So I listened to him. How he got me to trust him is another matter entirely. And I really should have known better.
What do You think about The Boy With The Hidden Name?
