Chapter 109
The door into the back room was open, showing the bulky angular frame of a printing press. Bent over it, his back turned to me, was Ragul. “Is that you, Geordie?” he asked, not turning around. He was dressed in shirt and breeches, and had a small tool of some kind in his hand, with which he was doing something to the innards of the press. “Took ye long enough. Did ye get the—” “It isn’t Geordie,” I said. My voice was higher than usual. “It’s me,” I said. “Harod.” He straightened up very slowly. He wore his hair long; a thick tail of a deep, rich auburn sparked with copper. I had time to see that the neat ribbon that tied it back was green, and then he turned around. He stared at me without speaking. A tremor ran down the muscular throat as he swallowed, but still he didn’t say anything
- Writer
