“I have an inquiry for you, Lord Agenor!” Beheim yelled, slamming the forked end all the more firmly against the elderly person’s throat. “Do you hear?” There was a slight reduction of the elderly person’s battles. “Pay attention to me! For the Family has need of your observer! Our adversaries assail us! We are woefully squeezed! How will we respond? Will we stay in our old fastnesses, or will we go into the East and make another home there?” Agenor stopped his battling, shaking with the cycles of the flares, his face now a dark ruin, broken surfaces and planes of carbonized tissue, a few pieces sparkling like new cracks of anthracite, others bearing hints of shading from some heated liquid or another, some yield of vein or cartilage. His eyes were gone, reduced away underneath solidified dark bows. The branch penetrating his neck was burning, just like the forked branch that held him. But he talked. The main words were miserably confused. Beheim, bewildered, requested him to rehash them. “Soo… ooo,” Agenor said, snarling the syllables; he rehashed them a few times, then, at that point, prevailed with regards to articulating a whole word, sounding every syllable independently. “Su… mama… rin… da. A town… on the stream Maha… ” The finish of that word, a name, was debased by his attacked a throaty growl; however after a respite he said, “Mahakam. You should… upriver. Six days.” Smoke streamed from his mouth; a dull coagulation of blood welled forward and sizzled on his jaw. After that he talked with less exertion and contortion. “Six days… by boat. Then, at that point, three days’ walk. Go south and east. To a slope. A high… slope. Mahogany trees. A remain of mahogany among… lesser trees. Confronting a seat… a saddleback mountain. Across a valley.” “Where is this spot?” Alexandra asked, yet so delicately that Beheim had to rehash the inquiry. “Borneo,” came the reaction. “What then, at that point?” Beheim yelled. “What will occur?” “Work there,” Agenor scratched. “Fabricate profound. Then, at that point, there is harmony for 1,000 years.” Another gout of blood, thick as stew, spilled from his mouth and was in a split second changed into smoke and a tacky buildup. “What do you signify, ‘fabricate profound’?” “A house… get away from burrows underneath. Rooms. Arsenals. Store… houses. Assuming difficulty comes… you will require… these things.” “And Europe? What of the Family in Europe?” From Agenor’s tortured throat gave a horrendous, dry, declining howl that appeared to Beheim a reply all alone. “100 years. Banat in ruins.” He said more, a wrecked course of gravelly syllables, however it was vast. “Find out if we—” Alexandra started, however Beheim cut in, saying, “Let him bite the dust.” “He is dead as of now,” she said. “Use him. Pose him the inquiry you should ask so when we leave this spot, we do as such get in our souls with regards to the future both of us should confront.” Her appearance was tense and stressed; the closures of her hair lifted from her shoulders. Reflected fire moved in her eyes. He gestured. “As you wish.” He went to Agenor, a roasted mummy stuck by a dark two-fingered hand, and said, “What of Alexandra and me? What lies ahead for us? How should we respond?” “Su… marin… da.” “Are you saying we should go there?” “Your main expectation,” Agenor said. “There is risk all over the place. Try not to wait at the palace. Go… into the East. To Sumarinda.” “Presently?” asked Beheim, wary. “Presently,” said Agenor, making the word into a whispery yell. “You will have your victory. Your day. Don’t hes… delay. Go now.” Beheim threw the forked branch into the forest and ventured away, drawing Alexandra with him, as Agenor pitched onto his side and lay at the skirt of the pit. One of his legs, totally carbonized, had snapped, and he pawed at the soil, attempting to pull himself along, gaining almost no headway. Smoke spilled from the parts in his skin. The needles whereupon he was lying burst into fire. “There’s something else to ask!” Alexandra said, grasping at Beheim as he got away from the pit, looking for a stake with which to complete Agenor. “What?” he said. “How long will we live? Will we succeed at affection? I question he could let us know a lot. He just offers prospects. How about we kill him and continue ahead with providing our own replies. It appears we have an extraordinary arrangement to discuss.” There was a sprinkle; they looked back to observe that Agenor had fallen into the pit.