“Master varcchin? You are there?”
Nothing. Without thinking, he pushed the door further open. “Master varcchin?” He stepped down into the house. “Your pardon, Master. You are asleep?” Ilissos took a step or two into the chilly gloom. The last wan light showed he was alone, but the house was not abandoned. Moving carefully around, he made out a hearth with perhaps the morning’s ashes heaped in it. Wooden bowls, some with food, were scattered across the earthen floor. Jars and bottles clustered on a bench against the wall. More bones splintered underfoot. Vague shapes hung from the rafters. Ilissos put out a hand and found dried meat and bunches of herbs and vegetables. A confusion of straw and shabby pelts on a low wooden frame indicated a bed. Other furniture loomed in the shadows: a tabl
