Chapter Six
The bizarre tableau lasted only a moment, then the men stood. Before he could speak, the man in the middle produced an adhesive bandage and slapped it over his mouth. The man to the right reached out and pulled the hood back down over his head. It was left to the man on the left to explain. “Our apologies, Farsighted One, but of course, you know it would be improper for the Lesser Lights to see you unmasked before the Great Service.”
That meant nothing to Art, but he was in no position to ask questions; what felt like leather thongs were wrapped around his wrists, a voluminous cloak was flung around his shoulders, and he was led off, stumbling, down another corridor, its floor rough between his feet.
“Step down,” a voice said, barely in time to keep Art from falling headlong
