第13页

... He had discerned a figure, one of the god's acolytes, standing on some front door steps. It is he, this acolyte,  who compasses his doom.
A blow strikes him full on the breast. A heavy blow. A marble-fisted blow. A marble-hearted blow. His mind fades out, surmising Dargelos upon a kind of dais, supernaturally lit; the arm of Dargelos nerveless, dropping down