Jacques muttered something.
“Silence!” Saint Germain barked once again, but didn't take his eyes off of Zofia.
“You should see my room. It's a shambles. I'm afraid one of your beautiful lamps was destroyed in the tussle,” she told him.
“I am not concerned about the lamp,” he said. “A lamp can be replaced. You cannot.” He turned to Jacques and said something that sounded like orders in Arpiesian.
“Oui. Buen sur.” Jacques sped away, disappearing up the hallway.
Saint Germain stood. His hands once again claiming hers, Zofia rose.
“I am placing you in a room below my own. If that is alright with you, that is,” he said, escorting her slowly out of the room and headed down the same narrow and rock-walled hallway as Jacques had gone. Tract lighting illuminated the corridor as she matched hi
