Histories of the Void Garden, Book 1: Pyre of Dreams Read Online Free Page A

you lived?”
    West closed his
eyes and allowed his memories back in. “I … I … I’ve,” he
stammered, unable to focus the flow of time in his mind’s eye. He
settled on a noncommittal answer, “I’ve seen the world you could
say.”
    Charlene
Osterman picked up a fine haired brush from the dresser and brushed
hairs from around West’s neckline. “You may have traveled the
world, but I’d wager it’s a while since you’ve had such a smart
haircut.” She laughed gently to herself and picked up the hand
mirror again to show West her handiwork. West looked at his
reflection earnestly and nodded approval.
    “Now,” Charlene
tugged gently at his thick beard with her left hand as she reached
over and put the mirror to rest again, “Time to take care of
this.”
     
    West watched Charlene
as she busied herself in her kitchenette, boiling water on the
stove, filling a bowl and a jug, adding a little cold water from
the tap. She brought the jug over first, then the bowl, placing
them with ceremony on the dresser beside her, and then returning to
the side table where she had kept the scissors and razor, she
pulled out a long length of leather with a handle on the end and a
small stone. She placed these too on the dresser before she walked
awkwardly out of the room and returned moments later with a short
white towel over one arm and a white bar of soap and a brush in her
other hand. Placing these on the dresser beside the bowl of
steaming water, she soaked the towel in the bowl and came and stood
behind West. “This is hot mind you!” she told West before she
pulled his head back gently and placed the damp and steaming hot
towel over his face.
    Charlene soaped
the water in the jug, rubbing the white bar between her hands in
the hot water, then, having wet the small stone, she went about
honing the blade of the razor, holding the razor by the shank with
her index finger pointing down the spine, moving the blade
carefully over the wet stone. The blade was already well honed, but
she liked to be sure she was working with the optimum conditions.
It had been a while since she had performed a straight razor shave
on someone else, even longer since she had performed one on
herself, her joint pains making it almost impossible to reach her
legs, never mind taking the risk of using such a dangerous
implement on them.
    She picked up
the long strip of leather and taking a metal hoop which was
attached to one end, she hooked it over the handle of the dresser’s
central drawer. She held the wooden handle which was attached to
the other end of the leather strip and she pulled the material
tight and applying light pressure, she ran the blade back and forth
with the sharp edge trailing, stropping the blade. Charlene always
found pleasure in the small details of such tasks.
    She picked up
the brush and the bar of soap from the dresser, submerging both in
the jug of already soapy water and she whisked the brush back and
forth on the soap, working up a good foamy lather. Placing the soap
back on the dresser, she held the brush in her right hand and as
she stepped behind West, she pulled the still warm towel off his
face. She was surprised to see that he still looked quite pale,
expecting that he would be rosy cheeked after the steaming towel.
She placed her left hand on his forehead and tilted his head back
gently, using the brush in her right hand to work up the foam
around his facial hair, cheeks and neck, then she returned the
brush to its place on the dresser and picked up her gleaming
razor.
    West allowed
his head to fall forwards slightly, watching Charlene’s face as she
stepped up behind him with the razor. That delicate hand, thumb on
the blade, fingers trembling slightly, she brought the blade to the
right side of his face, angling it and drawing it in a smooth
motion towards the center of his cheek, then with a second stroke
she moved the blade from his cheek to the side of his mouth. He
watched her eyes tentatively as she