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The sack emptied, Mukhari Ras tossed it aside. "That's
done," he said, showing blackened teeth in his smile.
"Artavash, my dear, bring the boy and his noble
companions to the palace. I shall receive them for dinner."
Sturm, Lady Ilys, and Carin were taken to an airy suite
of rooms on the east side of the palace. There, amid
billowing sheets of gauze, the smell of incense, and the
ever-present tinkling of wind chimes, bowls of scented
water were brought for their bathing. Vested servants stood
by with towels, even presuming to pat dry the Solamnians'
faces and hands for them. "What odd people they are," said
Carin. "That Mukhari Ras is the oddest of them all. Who
could imagine a quacksalving alchemist as the ruler of an
island? It's - it's contrary to nature, that's what it is," said
Lady Ilys.
"Mother, what will become of us?" Sturm said once the
towel was taken away from his face.
"I cannot guess," she confessed. "A man who throws
gold in the street cannot desire ransom money. In truth,
were it not for the violence of our being brought here, I
would believe we were honored guests."
Sturm was uneasy. Why had no one else noticed that
Mukhari's gold was only sand? He opened his mouth to
mention it to his mother, but before he could say a word,
Artavash appeared at their door
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