“Temilún, good woman,” he had said, lowering his chunky sunglasses to examine her more closely, perhaps thinking that someone might ask him later to describe the escaped madwoman. “The city of the God-King—praise to his name—the Lord of Life and Death, He Who Is Favored Above All Others. Where else would it go?” He gestured to the single straight road leading out of the sawmill town. “Where else could it go?”
