Two Eyes Cenote lotus & lyre

he held the conscript in proverbial hands, turning it over; he tried to find in its placement a joy of any kind. a delight.

"or a father, my hebsut," he said hoarsely, unable at last to maintain the fracture of agony in his face. 

was it salt he tasted?

was it blood.

"in the prison, he sang to my safiya, as a man might. he has met with her four times." four! this was his failure; this was his dire shortcoming. "she sees only kindness in him. i sent her away before —"

he straightened, pulling his voice together. "i am grateful to be your jodai, eset. and i thank you for it. please know i would not have acted out of turn if i were not her - father." it was not an action he meant to repeat. "she is capable, a credit to muat-riya." he tried to pause now the pain.

"given the frequency of his visits and his gifts, i do not think he works alone. will you allow me to put a bow around the nearby territories? i mean to bring the new mazoi, unless you believe they should remain." better they see violence early. but khusobek was too moved by emotion to fight overmuch; he had sent safiya away and it was all he could think of now.