“But,” he said, “you do not blame me altogether?” She rose to her feet. She could see over a waist high stone wall into the miniature courtyard, complete with benches only a small child could sit upon, one which had been broken in half, its two pieces left unjoined on the sandy ground. He tore it down just as the Wastrel rose, wavering slightly. ” She said and began to pace the hard dirt. It was a precious thing, a beautiful cabochon—do you know what that is?” “What’s a cabochon?” “It’s a precious jewel that doesn’t have facets yet. She handled it half fearfully, and set it carefully down again.
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