Deathwalker 1.5

             Why did the old tongue have to be so blasted florid and intricate? In the heavy silence, I began to fear that I had mangled it. Did I use the wrong form of address? With my face toward the floor, and the muscles of my legs and back beginning to tremble, I wracked my brain. Neith had to have told me more than that. Of course, Neith had also warned me to always do my research before starting a job. She’d kill me if she found out about this.
            Assuming she’d get the chance.
            “Your name.” The deep, frighteningly proud voice was never more reassuring.
            “Tradesman Sephtis, Your Worship,” I replied. Or at least, I thought that was what I’d said. The silence began to build once more. I was shaking partly from nerves and partly from holding that unnatural pose. Soon, I would have to get up or fall over.
            “Rise, tradesman,” the dead man’s voice became slightly less forbidding. “Ask your questions.”

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