Chronicles of Den'dra - Spencer Johnson Page 0,100
such interest in the mysteries that the squiggles could speak about. He would often torment his tutor in the most diabolical of ways. The poor man was driven to tears on several occasions.
One night I did the unthinkable and snuck into the solar where the lessons were taught. I had taken to mending clothes in the closet next door and so I had overheard many of the lessons. I honed my memory and tried to connect what I had heard with what I was seeing on the slates in the rooms. I would use my imagination to conjure slates of my own and practice drawing the characters. I would spend hours a night committing scribbles on the boards to memory and often the rest of the night trying to piece what I had heard together with what I had seen. This went on for months. I would spend every moment that I could excuse working near the solar and picking up fragments of the lessons and half my nights memorizing the writings. My learning was fragmented at best, but I learned to spell my name. Tamara. The simple yet indescribable joy that I felt when I was able to spell it out for the first time.
A short time after this breakthrough, I was examining a slate in the solar one night by the light of the twin moons when the tutor came in unexpectedly. He rummaged through a pile of books on the desk while I cowered in a dark shadow holding my breath. I almost escaped notice when he found his book and turned to leave. That was when he saw the slate that I had carelessly left lying in the moonlight. He walked over, then began squinting into the shadow where I hid. I bolted for the door when he came a step close in the hopes that I could escape recognition if I moved fast enough. My only thought was that I was going to get the worst whipping of all time if I was caught. I shook like a leaf anytime someone called my name the next day.
Old Melindra, the woman that I had helped out when first arriving, noticed my strange behavior and confronted me. I had come to look at her as a friend and might have as a mother if my own mother had been remotely as kind as Melindra. I confessed what I had done in the hopes that she could help me extricate myself from my predicament. This, I now believe, she was unable to do. Her opinions concerning head knowledge for girls was deep seated and ready to her tongue. She lectured me at length about the folly of coveting knowledge that I had no right to and even found a way of labeling the learning that I had already acquired as theft. I was in tears by the time she got around to forbidding any further intellectual forays. Being the quiet girl that I was, I simply promised through my tears, but resolved to be more careful that night. I made plans of doing my memorizations in a hidden corner of the room lest anyone else happened to be about at that late hour.
My plans were set in motion and I waited until a suspicious Melindra checked to ensure that I was indeed sleeping on my cot rather than gallivanting around the house chasing foolish notions. Following her departure, I arranged some blankets and clothes in the bed and slipped out into the halls. I had no need for a candle and with no difficulty found myself unseen at the door to the solar. It was here that I was seized by the fear that someone might already be in there. Carefully opening the door, I saw nothing alarming. Encouraged by the auspicious start, I crept inside and made for the slates I knew to be scattered around the lordling’s workspace. I had only picked up the first when the unthinkable happened.
My spirits and resolve shattered as the door slammed shut behind me. A moment later there was a flash of light as a candle was removed from behind a thick blanket. I was trapped and knew it. It took a moment before I recognized the lordling’s teacher holding the candle with a puzzled expression. He demanded to know what I was doing. Incredibly, he didn’t march me to the master of the house and demand a severe punishment. He instead cleared a slate and ordered me to show