Chapter 6“That's Procter Gwrtheyrn Jézéquel,” said Druidess Scathach Ogham of the Exalted Martyrology of the image Culann pointed to.
“Yes, that's the person I saw,” Sionann corroborated.
They'd repaired to the monastery scriptorium, where disciples of all three orders had quickly gathered, grim at the terrible events that had just taken place, not one but two of their brethren, principal Druids both, obliterated by a whirling dervish of fuaranders and salamanders.
Acolytes had brought them bound volumes containing registries of their fellow practitioners.
“I thought she'd gone on sabbatical,” said one Druid, his brown robe synched with a blue sash. He stood at a podium, a quill poised above a scroll, beside him a basket of bleached vellum, ready for his scrawl. Shelves towered nearly
