Chapitre 33: THE TRUE HISTORY

He had the form of every other man, stood like any other, and seemingly breathed the same. The claims that perhaps he was the very dirt upon the earth molded into something man-like were not far off. His skin was the deep brown of abundantly fertile soils by the Mariala. The young Aga acolyte manning the welcome altar at the shrine of Ogda was finding it hard not to stare at that day's visitor. She had never laid eyes upon any son of Hwala. But her strict and brutal training had her maintaining her stoic placidity in the presence of strangers. The Ogaissa, undisputed head of the acolytes, was about that day albeit in disguise, but present nevertheless. It was not wise to be slack on any manner of proper public conduct if one was an acolyte. One never knew who could possibly be watching.