MISTY KNIGHT

Prologue:
Supper is now over in the cosy botháin ósta. Rísteárd Mac Grailt the innkeeper is putting some more turf on the fire; the fire that is never allowed to quench. Each night before retiring, the remaining fire would be raked to cover over the live embers of turf with the ashes. The embers would then be left to repose comfortably there throughout the night until just before aurora when they would be gently breathed into to coincide with the flowering of the daystar. In this manner was impressive continuity been given to the ancient custom of ensuring the perpetual presence of the Inner Sun in the hearth of the home.
Outside it is a wet dark night with the wind blowing in from the southwestern Atlantic; the kind of night that one feels thankful for having the right side of the house facing out.
Sitting across the hearth from Rísteárd, is his guest, Receptive.
The fire glows interesting shadows up the walls to the rafters to join up with those already making sport there from the candle over on the windowsill and from the one on the table.
Rísteárd: Ah, this pleasing fire, Receptive revives to my eyes the sighting of Misty Knight.
Receptive: How does it proceed, Rísteárd?
Rísteárd (silently invocating)
Oh benevolent ancestors of our people;
Vigilant custodians of the isle's sacred hearths.
Bless my tongue and lips this Sunday Eve
That I may with a good grace, and
In a style worthy of your revered tradition,
Announce to my honoured guest, Receptive
This sighting of the hearth.
And may the blessings of those pastoral sojourners of Bygone Eves be upon Receptive too;
Who in their search with Truth and Eternity,
Were welcomed inside many the threshold,
To listen to stories grand, and
Contribute words profound.
Inspire memorable questions and gratifying elucidation
That we two may enjoy marvellous discourse.
And may this night's humble bequest to posterity
Be worthy of acceptance into your hearts.
Rísteárd (smiling) Now where shall I begin?
I suppose no better place to begin than at the very beginning.
Receptive (smiling) Then I will begin my listening also from the very beginning.
Rísteárd (in a slow soft melodious voice of a lovely blas and of intonations iridescent; the kind of voice that would be carrying one away into another world)
Misty Knight switches off the telesatavision in the sitting room, and with tears in his eyes retreats into his study. There he sits at the window, ninety-one floors above the screeching streets, lost in painweightful thought.
He had been watching THE NEWS as was his habit every morning for the past years of years, before leaving for his place of work.
And he speaks unto himself with a great heaviness of heart, saying,
'How can I continue to merely doodle while there is so much hardship taking place in the world? I have a comfortable room to study in, a soft bed to sleep in, delicious food to fill my stomach with whenever I so desire, a loving family, and a lot of freedom.'
And he continues, saying …
Innkeeper's Fire Vol. 1: Sightings of a Sacred Hearth