Luneshale Pass fifty-fourth

there was no anger forthcoming; he was too exhausted for it, seized by the idea that he must commit himself before the queen and asked that she choose only between rashepses and thutmose.

"hemet." the priest coughed gently, wiped his mouth a second time. "it seems the fare of the desert is less than agreeable. my gut has become spoiled by the palace."

the joke fell flat.