The Order of Shaddai

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A thunderstorm threatened the city of Emmanuel for the better part of the day, but it never materialized on the ground. A little thunder and a bit of lightning and then it moved on. The possibility of not getting to hear more of the Old Storyteller’s tale, concerning Ethan, would have been nearly unbearable for the children after the portion to which we had already been privy.

All of us, present the day before, had gathered again at the King’s Fountain, waiting. Everyone looked in different directions for the old man. Many grumbled that he should have been here by now. And we murmured amongst ourselves as to what direction he should come from, since it was the noon hour already.

Almost no one actually watched the place at the fountain’s edge where he had been sitting the day before. I happened to turn back, hoping to spot the man among the market-goers when, out of the corner of my eye, there he was.

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