Two Eyes Cenote A Winged Insect to Your Funeral Pyre

The palace of Muat-riya is drawn by paw in the fine sand floor of Eset’s chamber. She sits staring at the map with everything else obliterated from attention while walking the passages in her mind- then a voice startles her into the present.

“Come in,” she gives a turn rising from the edge of her bed to greet the newest servant. When Machiavelli enters she is reminded that there is something bureaucratic and rehearsed about him, and her spine stiffens. The man is only observing courtesies, and there is no denying his value, nor his contributions to the palace.

Yet the hebsut sits like a suspicious feline, looking for a second face beneath his poise and furtive gesture.

"You've made good time," she observes, "how was the journey?"