Posts Tagged: Cillian
Nick left the boat and walked briskly up and down the Fondamenta. He opened and closed his fists, he touched the tip of his shoes with his hands without bending his knees, he squatted and jumped in the air and squatted
Back to the Smyth Island at dusk, quite before most blacksmiths had awaken, Cillian walked quietly into a back-alley. He tried a few doors until he found one open leading to a backyard full of scrap metal.
Cillian spent the night dismantling the coins, meting the metal, comparing, weighting and sampling. He drifted to sleep on the couch twice for a few minutes at a time, fully dressed.
Cillian looked at people with such an intensity that most averted their eyes from him. He looked at their hands, their fingers, their fingernails; any wrinkle, stain or cut told him a story. Such obsession with looking did not escape most
Cillian spent over two hours on Smyth Island. Nick the boatman saw him at a distance, carrying a metal case with a wooden handle in one hand and a long parchment in the other.
Cillian returned to his mascareta, a black, low, flat-bottom boat he used to move from island to island. He left the two Plier cakes and asked the boatman to wait for his return. Cillian came back an hour later, with a number of bags from
While Cillian was drinking tea he heard the sound again, on the countertop at a short distance from where he was. Again, the same sound. One more coin with the odd sound was laid on a table before he left. He looked