Baker Bloch’s discordant piano playing continued past Karoz’s veiled request for cessation. Message not received. Baker’s got all day to play the piano, explore old, forgotten forests, and so on, Karoz thinks. *He* has a religion to jumpstart, a wife to consider, and more. Yes, more. He must be more forthright.
On cue, Baker abruptly halted his production, mid-jangle. “You know what you need to do Karoz,” he spoke while pivoting toward the moss being, obviously somehow inspired by the cantankerous music. “Write about Chilbo. Write about how you’re different from me, Baker Blinker, Hucka Doobie even. You come after us. You come from Chilbo or at least the area. Jeogeot itself. That’s where we (separated) from [delete name] and his off-mainland roleplaying. Contact Maggie. Maybe she’ll have some ideas.”
“Novel writer?” Karoz protests, but Baker had started his infernal clanking again and didn’t hear the question. As if I don’t have enough on my plate, he then thinks, and begins to plot his escape again.
But he ended up being just that.
Sunklands 