The next hour passed in a blur of judgement. The men in chains were led before the bench one-by-one, and kneeling next to the headless bodies, fell to their knees and begged to take the black.
Even with the shutters firmly bolted against the howling winter wind, an insistent draft pushed its way through and set the candles to guttering. Munkun snatched up the fresh vellum sheet from his desk to spare the creamy white expanse from spatters of wax, and once again resented the fact that the pressures of office had forced him to confine his writing to the dark hours of…
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