Galdtchav’s smile spread and glowed at the bronze-timbre voice. “Lady Aia, allow me to present Tyr-shan of Falakhoth, newest novice at our Shrine. It is he who saved the Anthu Jarthastra from the wolf.”
The turbaned head went back so that the copper veil and its ornaments swung and glittered: the lady was clearly startled. “You swung the blade? Mu’temba jitani!” She slowly lowered herself onto a couch, wide unseen eyes burning through the gauze at Tyr. “It is honour to me to meet the guardian of the north.”
Tyr blushed. He rather liked being called the guardian of the north. Nobody had suggested he was this before, but he supposed saving Jarthastra may have protected the whole realm. He now felt important, uniquely so, but his village modesty caused him to say, “I were just there. And I
