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Dearest wife,
I write to you as a loving husband should, to inform you of our progress to meet with the brother of the great Khan.
Our journey so far has been smooth and without event. The going has been slow and the men are restless to be about the business we were send for.
Sinric too has been restless. Although listless might be a better word. In the way he has been since I brought him back from the Silk Road.
It may be hard for you to see him any other way, my dear Zhi, for you have never known him any other way. You have not known him as I have, in the years before the death of the exalted emperor of the Byzantines.
But the pall of mourning seems to have fallen away from him. Suddenly, at dawn. I can’t say what it was exactly, but when I rose, I found him sitting cross-legged on the roof of our wagon, watching the rising sun as it has always been his habit to do.
There is no one thing I could say this is what has changed in him. But changed he is. The light of the rising sun seems to have returned the light to his eyes, the gold in his hair. He even seems healthier of body as well as spirit. The hollows of his cheeks have lost their shadows, his form no longer as gaunt and fragile.
I haven’t seen him so alive since before the Road. It was as if he was smiling at me from across the last five years.
I know you have no great love for Sinric, that you have never seen him in a warm light. But he is beloved by our sons and is a great boon for their futures. And to me, he is as dear as a brother.
My men, who had been wary of him as strange and ill-favoured are warming to him, charmed by his regained levity.
To see him come back from the dead so has raised my spirits greatly. I see it at a good sign for our endeavour.
Our freed bird has remembered how to sing at last.
Your loving husband,
Lu Yan.
I write to you as a loving husband should, to inform you of our progress to meet with the brother of the great Khan.
Our journey so far has been smooth and without event. The going has been slow and the men are restless to be about the business we were send for.
Sinric too has been restless. Although listless might be a better word. In the way he has been since I brought him back from the Silk Road.
It may be hard for you to see him any other way, my dear Zhi, for you have never known him any other way. You have not known him as I have, in the years before the death of the exalted emperor of the Byzantines.
But the pall of mourning seems to have fallen away from him. Suddenly, at dawn. I can’t say what it was exactly, but when I rose, I found him sitting cross-legged on the roof of our wagon, watching the rising sun as it has always been his habit to do.
There is no one thing I could say this is what has changed in him. But changed he is. The light of the rising sun seems to have returned the light to his eyes, the gold in his hair. He even seems healthier of body as well as spirit. The hollows of his cheeks have lost their shadows, his form no longer as gaunt and fragile.
I haven’t seen him so alive since before the Road. It was as if he was smiling at me from across the last five years.
I know you have no great love for Sinric, that you have never seen him in a warm light. But he is beloved by our sons and is a great boon for their futures. And to me, he is as dear as a brother.
My men, who had been wary of him as strange and ill-favoured are warming to him, charmed by his regained levity.
To see him come back from the dead so has raised my spirits greatly. I see it at a good sign for our endeavour.
Our freed bird has remembered how to sing at last.
Your loving husband,
Lu Yan.
