Meilyr froze on the spot, but he made no move to talk.
In such situations, silence was best to stir one's interlocutor into giving more information. Albeit curious about his question, he certainly wouldn't reveal anything to a magus as shady looking as this one.
"Suddenly mute?" Philosir seemed to enjoy his reaction. "If I had to guess... a few thousand times, mayhaps? Your Hayaat is a hastily-made tapestry, woven over and over with the same threads. The technique is ancient, older still than our records. I recognize only its patterns... magnificent..."
He lowered his voice to a whisper, oozing a restrained, inquisitive passion. "A talent worthy of the Shahanshah. Who did it? Was it you? Tell me, I beg of you."
