Chapter eighteenWhat I needed at this juncture was to sit down quietly and think about the situation and try to decide what to do. What I got, by Makki Grodno’s pendulous pustular nose, was red-roaring bloody action.
I’d just relieved old Nath the Lump, named for a monstrous growth on his neck. He’d worked for Mishuro for many seasons, standing guard, for whilst the person of the Diviner might be sacrosanct, his property was not. Thieves would have found rich pickings in the villa had they been allowed a free run. The gate whose watch we shared stood at the back of the villa in a brick wall covered with a pretty pale yellow flower that yielded sweet fruit later in the season, sweet rispas, and the guards watched the fruit as well come the time.
A fellow with a seamed face lounged up alon
