“Why… ” he started; then, at that point, said, “Don’t bother.” “For what reason do I fancy you? Is that what you need to know?” She got away from him, venturing out toward the focal point of the clearing, and when she talked once more, there was an edge to her voice. “I accept that Agenor was directly about you. At last you will be a serious amazing figure. That draws in me.” “Legislative issues, eh? That is all it is?” “You’re the one posing troublesome inquiries. Try not to anticipate honeyed replies. Those I’ve as of now given you. In the event that you’re too hard of hearing to even consider having heard them, too ignorant concerning even think about seeing what I am offering, it’ll do nothing but bad for me to attempt to edify you further.” They gazed insubordinately at each other while Agenor’s beating became stronger and more maintained. On the off chance that he was unable to trust her, he thought, in case he was unable to trust himself, what was the utilization in continuing? Eventually he would need to place his confidence in somebody, hazard everything, and she was the only one he had at any point trusted, in any event, briefly. Agenor he had dreaded, worshipped, imitated. However, never trusted. He ventured toward her, prepared to begin once again, yet she stepped back. “Not really quick,” she said straight. “It takes me some time.” “Look, I’m heartbroken, I… ” “No expressions of remorse,” she said; she pushed the fall of her hair back behind her ears. “I needn’t bother with your expression of remorse. I see how it is with you. Relax. All will be great. It simply takes me some time to make this sort of convenience.” She got some distance from him, looking off into the forest. Feeling half-dismissed, Beheim found, was not any more lovely than direct dismissal. The beating on the screen started to grind on his nerves, lastly he said, “Goodness, hellfire! What do you need?” and hurled at the screen with the goal that a couple crawls of the water underneath were uncovered. He heard an irate sprinkling—Agenor withdrawing to the furthest finish of the pit—and was embarrassed for having blown up. “What is it?” he asked, unfit to free his voice of inconvenience. A weak sprinkle, a raspy exhalation. “Are you in torment?” Beheim asked, dropping to his knees. “Indeed,” Agenor said. “However, the dimness is recuperating.” The quiet that followed appeared to be streaming up from the obscurity of the pit, from the shadowy understand underneath the sparkling segment of water. Beheim felt inconsistent to the occasion. “How will I respond?” he inquired. “I can not see anything for you toward the finish of this yet demise.” A long interruption, then, at that point, a sloshing sound; as though Agenor were moving his arms in the water. Beheim said, “Will I return you to the palace? Into the evening, I signify.” “Into the evening?” Was there a confident note in Agenor’s voice? “In that occurrence I would, obviously, ship off the palace for an escort,” said Beheim. “Obviously.” Another respite. “Also, is there another option?” “In the event that getting back to the palace isn’t however you would prefer, we would… finish things here. Woman Alexandra is filling in as the Patriarch’s representative. She would observer everything you may tell us.” “I see.”