Dravidian opened his mouth to speak but stopped, understanding in a rush that the prefect might well know—somehow—everything. For while he had assuredly reviewed Sthulhu’s recordings (which, while revealing much, would still have left gaps), who knew by what other means the Lucitor might watch as well as listen? Indeed, might not the trees, the rocks, his gondola itself, be instruments to this end?
“It is the girl, of course,” said the prefect almost to himself, then leaned toward him across the table yet again. “But does thou know what will be tonight? I know not the extent to which you have betrayed your duty to satisfy your loins, and care not to know, to speak the truth; our mission as ferrymen has never been what we teach the brownies and journeymen. But tonight I shall condemn the w
