Atmanta Arnza and Masu are only too delighted to have been chosen to carry out Larth's instructions. They've not been long in his employ and he has rarely noticed them, let alone favoured them with tasks of any importance. Even more pleasingly, they have a personal grudge against the netsvis.
They wait until the seer's powerfully built father wanders away and joins a group of other men leaving the temple. Then they move swiftly.
Arnza, the smaller of the two, does the talking. 'Netsvis, on the orders of Magistrate Pesna you are commanded to come with us.'
Before the seer can object, they each have hold of an elbow and he finds himself being marched down the eastern side of the temple.
'What is the purpose of this?' protests Teucer. 'Why such haste that I cannot take my proper leave of the people?'
The guards smirk at each other. 'We are instructed to search you, using whatever force we see fit.'
'Why so? Why do you have to search me?'
Masu waits until they have manhandled him away from the temple and into the thicket behind it. His breath reeks of day-old meat as he pushes his face into Teucer's and sneers, 'You have no idea who we are, do you, Netsvis?'
Teucer half stumbles as they let go of him. Finally his memory stirs. He now recognises their voices, even their smells.
Rapists. The men who held and raped his wife!
'Disrobe, priest!' Arnza draws his sword. 'Take off those garments while we remind you of the cut you gave me and how you killed our friend.'
'I know not of what you speak. I am but a blinded man. A man of the gods.'
'We know who and what you are,' says Arnza, using the point of his sword to prompt Teucer to lift his mantle over his shoulders. 'Get on with it!'
There is a noise in the thicket.
The guard puts his sword to the priest's throat and whispers. 'Speak one word and I will spill your blood.' He nods to Masu to check out the undergrowth.
The big man draws his blade, careful not to make a sound as it slithers free of its sheath. He eases his way through the tangle of twisting, hanging gorse. Twigs crack underfoot.
Teucer speaks in an un-hushed voice: 'Your friend moves with the quietness of an elephant.'
Arnza presses the sword to his windpipe. 'Be quiet.'
'But the gods do not command me to be quiet. They command me to speak.'
The guard leans on his blade again. It nicks Teucer's neck. A thin river of blood springs to the skin. 'You're not as brave now as when you killed Rasce and cut my face, are you?'
Another noise in the bushes.
Arnza spins round.
It is the split second Tetia needs.
She steps behind him and plunges one of Teucer's ceremonial knives into the side of his neck.
She holds it there. Presses hard as he tries to fight her off. Uses both hands as he wriggles and kicks back at her. She keeps pressing until he hits the ground, gargling and choking on his own blood.
Now she darts forward to Teucer. 'Husband, are you all right?'
He is on his hands and knees, feeling his way towards the guard. 'Tetia! Thank the gods, you're here. Pass me his sword – he has a companion nearby.'