“Your merida, master,” Sajak told Jeiel, in their native Azzan. The cambra had just arrived in his study and was pulling forth mountains of books and ledgers that needed updating.

“Thank you,” Jeiel said. He glanced up at the man, noting the large bandage wrapped about his head. He was glad he was healing quickly and back on his feet. “You are free to retire.”

“Master,” Sajak replied, bowing obediently before departing the room.

As Jeiel became engrossed in his books, he habitually lifted the steaming mug to his lips, sipping its contents. A while later, he shook himself and wondered why he suddenly felt out of sorts. He hadn’t...