"Now as for this writing," said Habrunt, "this is most amazing. I know
not what this surprising series of events may portend, Si'Wren, but
verily is the Invisible God the Almighty. For look here who it is that
I have with me."
Habrunt turned, and Si'Wren looked down at an old, old man, who was
totally ignoring the crowds as if they had all gone mad.
"Bassdag!" said Habrunt loudly.
The aged one, who was almost entirely bald-headed, stirred as if
shaking himself out of a fitful slumber.
"Eh? Who is that?"
"How can you sleep at a time like this?" jested Habrunt. "It is the
Royal Scribe of the Emperor, who rides in his procession, and has
dismounted to pay us a visit!"
Habrunt kept his voice loud, to be heard over the river of noise from
the tumultuous throngs that crowded them in at every hand.
"So you say, Habrunt," scoffed the bowed and weary-looking old Bassdag.
"Royal Scribe to the Emperor, eh? Well, where is the illiterate snob?"
Quickly, Si'Wren knelt down on both knees and dipped her head in a
perfunctory bow before the ancient, as she smiled with a merry look to
a proudly grinning Habrunt.
As she bowed low before old Bassdag, sensing her presence, he peered up
at her.
"Your face is awfully girlish, young man," said Bassdag.
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