Chapter 16Vredech’s pen wilted slowly from his hand. Scarcely aware of what he was doing, he folded his arms on the desk and slowly sagged forward to rest his head on them. Beside his papers stood a plate bearing the congealed remains of a barely touched meal. His housekeeper had left it for him, venturing again the plea, at once anxious and stern. ‘You must eat something, Brother. I’m sure you’re losing weight, and you’re looking far from well.’
She had known him for a long time and freely took motherly licence with him, though her natural relish for ailments, both her own and others’, and ability to discourse on them at length to any available audience, had caused Vredech to stop listening long ago. Christened ‘House’ by Vredech as a result of some long-forgotten joke, she was an excell
