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" Indeed." I didn't look up, my eyes still scouring across the typed pages before me, trying to locate another error."You best go get him then. I've only just had that painting in the hallway restored."I got up with a heavy sigh and put down my pen. I looked over at Edgar just once before I left the room. He was wearing khaki slacks and a blue shirt with the sleeves rolled up, his forearms submerged in the soapy water. The washing up was done and put away and he was busy shaping multi coloured strands of wool into felt balls of varying sizes. His short brown hair stuck up at the back and I longed to go to him, wrap my arms around him and nuzzle the exposed nape of his neck.But I didn't, I turned on my heel and left. I found our young charge in the upstairs lounge. The fire was blazing in the grate and he was asleep on the antique Chesterfield. I had never really liked the sofa, though the blood red colour was nice. Time was once when Byron curled up on the sofa wouldn't take up half. Sergeant Forgash stopped outside the entrance to Prince Arragin's tent this time, standing aside to let them enter."Ah, the good trader. Nurm, as you call yourself." Enough light filtered in through the tent walls to show everything clearly. Prince Arragin sat at ease in a folding chair, his bare feet propped on a hassock. At one elbow, a low table held a pottery jug and two goblets. At his other elbow, standing hardly taller than the seated prince, stood a small black statue of extreme and repellent ugliness. "Come in, Trader, come in. Have you eaten?" We have, your highness. The nourishment was most welcome."Jewel watched from just behind Neal's shoulder, fascinated. The thing by Prince Arragin's side was no statue, no carven idol. The gleaming eyes in the skulllike head were alive and watching. She could see no ears. They must have been cropped. Cut off so close to the skull that only earholes were left. There was no hair, only skin stretched so tightly over bare bone as to be.
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