Everyone at her fire ate and drank and got a little inebriated. They sang for a bit, and then tried to get Taryn to tell them, in her poor French, how the world fared. Was it possible yet to be poor and live decently? Were young men still sent to die in wars made by old men? Were the meek still waiting to inherit the Earth, as Scripture promised, though generations of them were already under the ground, and a grave wasn’t an inheritance? Not really, Taryn said of the first. Yes, of course, of the second. And of the third, no. It’s not like that. They made us believe we’re weaklings if we can’t
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