"I think it's a slave brand," he says softly, and commits the design to memory, before draping the covering over the body again.

"We are--if you are, Kit."

"Atrast nal tunsha, salroka," he bids the dead man one more time. If this is to be what becomes of him, it seems only right to send him on his way into the dark with some solemn words before hand. He touches his fingers gently to the covered head, then rises to his feet and steps back.