Nothing happens for minutes as the flames roar and the priests bask in, if not the admiration and respect, the obedience and fear of their assembled pawns. No one moves.
The movement of the flames behind them is hypnotic and, even at this distance, the scraps of warmth lull me into drowsiness. I bite the inside of my lip to push through the fatigue. It’s been a long few months but this is important.
I pick up the magnifying lens again and when I look through it everything’s blurry. As I rotate the casing to find the right magnification, vague shapes blur and merge. An orange dot expands from near center to fill the lens before breaking into spots of black and gray.
Flames and food.
Five imposing priests commanding the attention of the professionally huddled soldiers.
Cooks and servant
