Columba stared at the High Magux Ravenna Cithara in alarm. “I have to do what?” Immediately, he apologized for not addressing her properly.
The cottage where he"d stayed the night was located in the rear of the compound containing the Crypt of Scrolls, the design and decor intended to delight the visiting scholar, a rostrum for writing complete with quills, parchment, and ink, looking out the window onto a picturesque garden of wildflower.
The morning light pouring through the skylight lit the shelves of books with a pleasant glow, and a soft breeze blew occasional puffs through the half-open window, the mourning doves and whippoorwills calling in orchestral counterpoint, as though conversing amiably.
He"d spent yesterday and yestereven chronicling his version of events, and although hi
