“Of course,” said Sher-tal. “I’ll just go and hunt out some paper for you.”
~
JARTHASTRA WAS STILL SOAKING in healing unguents when Sher-tal returned to him some time later. The hot water had been replenished several times by the attentive Thjurrik. The Valgraav’s body was limp, his face creased by doubt. A number of the senior priests sat nearby, bored but watchful, and guardsmen stood by the door. The secretary approached the bath and bowed.
“If it please you, Anthu, I have seen to the morning’s necessities within the city.”
“The Singer?” asked Jarthastra.
“He will be fittingly laid to rest.”
“Good. Send a commendation from my hand.” The Valgraav frowned. “Is Tyr-shan well? No wounds?”
“Very well, Anthu. Somewhat shocked, but he is resting in a guardroom.”
“Still in the city then
