Chapter two“Dribble, dribble, dribble,” said Mevancy. “He’s just like an overgrown baby.”
“With shoulders like that,” observed Mistress Lingshi, wife of Nath the Landlord, “overgrown he surely is.”
Mevancy wiped soup away with a yellow cloth and then filled the spoon again. Carefully, she tilted it over my mouth and some of the soup splashed between my lips. Thank Zair my inward parts still worked. And, too, I felt supremely fortunate that my eyelids could close and open. Utter torture would have resulted if they’d been as paralyzed as the rest of me.
Mevancy sighed and filled the spoon again and a little more soup trickled down my gullet. It was a soup I had not tasted before, rich but not as thick as it might have been. And it was not hot; these parts, then, shared the fashion of drin
