Two Eyes Cenote sand & lapis

“A serf.” There was no other word in her mind for it. Her eyes burn and she shuts them quickly.

When she’d opened them again Khusobek was bent over the stone, tracing their fortress with a drawn claw. No hesitations. She’d never felt more grateful for him. She frees a breath and stands to peer over his mark-making.

“Machiavelli is indebted to Herod. He told me he escaped- only by killing some of his men,” she frowns. “They want to recover him. I do not know the price for such a trade. Is it worth negotiating?”

She did not wish to. She did not want to stand across from a slaver and normalize conducting business with him. But perhaps, and only for the peace and safety of Muat-riya, it was a recourse that should be considered.