14 ConclaveIN A DREAM OF RITUAL and red-robed priests, a hand seized Azhur’s arm. Around him, singing ceased and the whole Shrine fell away. All at once he was awake, with a hand on his arm and a figure crouching by his bunk.
“Come on, Loremaster. Get yourself together.”
Azhur recognised the voice and let the fright drain out of him. It was Sher-tal, one of the senior executive secretaries. Though not a priest, he ran the errands of the Archpriest and his higher colleagues.
“What’s this? What time is it?”
“Never mind. Up you get, Loremaster.” He slapped Azhur on the shoulder.
Azhur hoisted himself from his mattress and reached for his clothes. But Sher-tal pulled the black robe out of his hands.
“No. Your things are over there.” He indicated garments lying folded on a bench.
“Sher,
