He took the ewer from me, as well as the small bag of clothing I had brought along—but he was looking at the other item I carried. The sword, well wrapped to disguise its shape, was tucked under my arm. He touched it reverently, and the smile he gave was as joyful as a child’s laughter. ‘That’s it!’ he said, almost as if he were afraid to believe it. And then, awed, ‘You just walked out of the Governor’s residence with it under your arm?’ I nodded. ‘Who was there to question me? The Legata went out herself this morning. Anyone else seeing me leave the villa would have assumed I was on her business. And believe me, no one would question her orders.’ The evasions slipped off my tongue as easily as water rolls from a gorclak’s hide. I had to be careful with my wording; this man had a lump on his palm. What if he could read lies the way I could? Temellin would know I hid my emotions from him, of course, but then he did that to me too. I had to assume that was normal behaviour for one of the Magor.
