Galen proceeds to question Miles ruthlessly on a wide variety of subjects. Emperor Gregor's old problems with depression come out, as does entirely too much information about the Dendarii Mercenaries, plus fountains of domestic trivia about Miles's own life. But the interrogation takes an unexpected turn the first time a chance phrasing gets Miles started reciting poetry.
It proves quite impossible to stop Miles reciting poetry, even more so than when he recites anything else. The first one is just a sonnet, but the next time it's a filthy Dendarii drinking song, and the memory-enhancing effects of fast-penta let him deliver all forty verses, alternately weeping and shrieking but never stopping except to breathe. An enraged Galen leaves off hitting him once the last verse runs down, and instead asks him the next question; he's back on track for another five minutes, until he manages to jump himself off into a series of awful limericks about five-space navigation that he composed once while bored in school. And on and on.
But the true moment of glory doesn't come until Galen asks a question beginning with 'When'. He doesn't get any farther than that; Miles, primed now to seek these things out, jumps straight to the association. A demented grin lights his face, and he launches into a shrieking cackle of, "When shall we three meet again? In thunder, lightning or in rain?"
Out of some dusty corner of his memory, the entire play spills torrentially forth. No amount of violence can stop him - and they do try violence. His awareness of the room around him, and his own body, fades in and out; his awareness of the words is a crystalline constant.
He's just coming in on the end of Act I Scene IV when his confused senses detect a change in his surroundings. Another prisoner? He can't quite see properly. Maybe they brought Galeni up? The play carries him on regardless. "...and in his commendations I am fed; it is a banquet to me. Let's after him, whose care is gone before to bid us welcome: it is a peerless kinsman."
Miles takes a breath between scenes and squints at the second chair.
no subject
It proves quite impossible to stop Miles reciting poetry, even more so than when he recites anything else. The first one is just a sonnet, but the next time it's a filthy Dendarii drinking song, and the memory-enhancing effects of fast-penta let him deliver all forty verses, alternately weeping and shrieking but never stopping except to breathe. An enraged Galen leaves off hitting him once the last verse runs down, and instead asks him the next question; he's back on track for another five minutes, until he manages to jump himself off into a series of awful limericks about five-space navigation that he composed once while bored in school. And on and on.
But the true moment of glory doesn't come until Galen asks a question beginning with 'When'. He doesn't get any farther than that; Miles, primed now to seek these things out, jumps straight to the association. A demented grin lights his face, and he launches into a shrieking cackle of, "When shall we three meet again? In thunder, lightning or in rain?"
Out of some dusty corner of his memory, the entire play spills torrentially forth. No amount of violence can stop him - and they do try violence. His awareness of the room around him, and his own body, fades in and out; his awareness of the words is a crystalline constant.
He's just coming in on the end of Act I Scene IV when his confused senses detect a change in his surroundings. Another prisoner? He can't quite see properly. Maybe they brought Galeni up? The play carries him on regardless. "...and in his commendations I am fed; it is a banquet to me. Let's after him, whose care is gone before to bid us welcome: it is a peerless kinsman."
Miles takes a breath between scenes and squints at the second chair.