“S in the hanged Jew?”

    out to treet  ing for my response. I folloy paces along tering an unkempt garden.  smelled of  and rotting leaves, and faintly of mold. itaking firm, reps, ered tood before us almost rees.

    tely empty, but it here.

    “his?” I asked.

    “t to ter over by t-sellers’ quay. t into a corner of turned. ”t’s gone, it’s disappeared,“ he said.

    “ go?”

    “My grandfathe dead wander.”

    “Not ts wander.”

    “ tig his lap in all seriousness.

    “I just know. Do you always come here?”

    “My mot nig I’m not afraid of this place. have you ever killed a man?”

    “Yes.”

    “how many?”

    “Not many. two.”

    “ith a sword?”

    “ith a sword.”

    “Do their souls wander?”

    “I don’t knoo ten in books, t wander.”

    “Uncle ’s so s’ll cut you if you just touc. And udded her?”

    I nodded indicating neit your father is dead?”

    “My moterday.  be returning. She saw him in her dream.”

    If presented unity, er goal o do for t t burns  breaks our s; and so, I resolved once more to become turned to tened more intently to S’s grandfatext and illustrations I o complete.

    Let me begin rations t my Enisy; even so, I couldn’t say it ing of a  it  t tepped off to tyle. tely apparent from ts of nobility: Maybe, a man  t to appear beside teed.

    It  Eniser illustrator rator, arriving at nigencil—only if it ension of a story, t’s exactly e. As imes in scenes of love and ers, ructed t