5
The sun had not yet risen when Farlowe, Kosar’s manservant rose from his pallet at the foot of the king’s bed to prepare for the day. He grunted as he straightened from his hard bed. He was getting older and it was becoming more difficult to keep up with the requirements of his master. But he would never risk losing his place at the king’s side by making any mention of his discomfort. As was his wont, he moved quietly to the dresser with the intention of pouring water into the shaving mug to soften the brush before he used it on the Royal throat and chin. The sight that met him in the dim light stopped him in his tracks.
Three purple fluted flowers, each the size of a man’s hand, greeted him from the shaving mug. A tantalizingly sweet perfume drifted through the air towards him. His fi
