Siv had blamed her daughter’s supposed failure on her father’s genetics, though she did not know it under such a specific term and instead believed his blood had somehow dulled her mind. Certainly there was a bit of slowness in the girl, but Siv did not consider this a true fault. If she had been truly dull, it would have been unforgivable. Draugr was simply unpolished and yet to come into her own. Age would help her. Of course, Siv was not a fair example—she was so sharply manipulative that her intelligence was undoubtedly one of her strongest characteristics…following her charisma and her size, of course.
“There are,” she began to explain, in the patient tone of someone who has taught before. “Many stories, yes. Across the sea, in that desert land that Ihmotep hails from, they think that the sun is a god who is killed each night. I suppose one might think so, when the sky bleeds like this,” she added, pausing to look at the forest. For a long time the dark woman was silent, but then shook her head and turned her gaze back to Draugr.
“You look skinny. Are you eating enough?”
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