"No," Duinn muttered. He did not care for what was in the cup. By the look of the acolyte's face, he had not cared for it either. "How long has it been? Blast that Trickster!"
Aramina laughed. "You should have watched your tongue," she said. "He values his privacy. It is late afternoon by now, which is what we wanted anyway. The opening inside the garden is just beyond this cavern."
"I never knew about this place," the acolyte said softly, glancing around himself. He favored his arm, where a long gash marred his pale skin. Blood had stained his robes.
"No wonder," Duinn said, getting to his feet. "With everyone but us dead." He grinned for effect.
To Duinn's disappointment, the acolyte did not seem to notice. He staggered off, gazing at the world as if with newborn eyes. The Priestess
