undercooked pigs. Servant has prepared your chambers. And broths of healing herbs, roots, potions and elixirs. White Paralt, emulor, tralb—’ ‘Those are poisons,’ Mappo pointed out. ‘Are they? No wonder the pig died. It’s almost time, shall we prepare to ascend?’ ‘Lead the way,’ Icarium invited. ‘A life given for a life taken. Follow me. None can outwit Iskaral Pust.’
