This is the seventh chapter of Wealthgiver, an alternate history serial romance about nationalism and cave-Thracians. For the back-of-the-book description and an index of chapters, click here. For the beginning, click here. For the previous chapter, click here.
"What did he say?" asked the Maiden.
Nikolai could not speak. The darkness pressed in from all directions, like water. Like soil. Even as his sickle pinned the defiler to the wall, Nikolai himself stood immobilized in the grip of his outrage.
I'll take you. He wouldn't translate such filth into the Good Language. What was the meaning of this? What did it portend?
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