“Magistrate, can you hear me?” Kasita touched Thane’s shoulder. “How many fingers am I holding up?”
He groaned. “Jethan, is that you? It hurts. I’m just…” His eyes fell shut, but his breathing steadied.
“We need to get this man to a temple.”
“What about the last tower?”
“I can fly there on Charon, and — wait, Cordwynn is an ogre. Even a giant raven can’t carry her.”
Chapton perched on a wooden framework on top of a hundred-foot obelisk, and glared at an idiot. “Why are you trying to kill this ogre, anyway?”
“She’s been corrupting minds!” The woman stamped her boat-hook on the stone for emphasis. “Distracting the young from their work!” Stamp! “And she is unbelievably aggravating.” Stamp! She pointed the hook at a bound figure hanging from the scaffold.
The ogre twisted around in her bonds. “Do not waste your breath on words. If I ought to die, kill me.”
Chapton sighed. This had already been a long day.