Marek Rymiit asked with a sibilant hiss to his accented voicehe pronounced Willem’s name as if it started with a V and not a W. The rotund wizard blinked, almost as though he was batting his eyelashes. “I mean, really. You are well and truly blessed.” Willem swallowed and nodded, looking around the high-ceilinged room. Scattered about sat a number of crates. Hay had been piled in the corners, and canvas tarps had been spread over the scuffed wood floor. “Willem?” the Thayan prompted. “Yes,” Willem replied, still not looking Marek in the eye. “I am well and truly…” He paused to think, then risked:”… cared for.” Marek laughed, and the sound was so light and so sincere that Willem was forced to smile. “You know, of course, that I can help you,” Marek said as he crossed the room to one of the crates. “Please excuse the mess. We’ve only just begun to move in. Do you like it?” Willem nodded, lying. The building was garish and overly large for one man, and he’d heard that Marek didn’t even intend to live there.
