Keller
When we arrived at Getta’s place, she was pounding something on a small mortar. She didn’t even bother to look at us.
Bennett gently laid the guard, wrapped in a white material, over a wooden bed in a corner. With Getta pounding, I didn’t need a soothsayer to tell me that she knew we were coming.
“You responded to my message rather promptly,” Getta transferred the content of all she boiled into a small cauldron. With a snap of her fingers, a small fire appeared beneath the cauldron.
Then she turned to us. “Was it because of the young man?”
I shrugged, then turned to Bennett.
“Keller told me you wanted to see us,” He said simply.
“The boy will live,” Getta said, crossing the room to a line of shelves. She plucked a small bottle and returned to her Cauldron.
“He will?” Benn
