[The bulk of sadness that usually clings to Ortus seems lightened. Without its weight, he seems to inhabit more space than he once did, and to do so with greater ease. When he smiles softly at Palamedes' remarks, it is without any cringe of anxiety or rivulet of supplication. They are simply two men sitting on a rough bench in a dojo whose rules number only three, and have no prohibition against the stretching of limbs in any whichaway.]

It has been.

As for that - I have little head for the accounting of debts. [He has no particular skill at sums in general.] I am glad of what I did, and would do it again - and I believe that you would do the same for myself, or any of the Ninth, or indeed, most people of this world.

[He clasps his hands together in a gesture too tentative to produce any sound so vigorous as a clap, but it signals all the same: that's that, then. No ghoulishness indulged, at least for the time being, Ortus picks up one of the carved apples and examines it more closely.]

I do like it. It is a clever thought to use the flesh of the fruit in this manner. Perhaps I may entice Lady Harrowhark to sample an apple with mimicry of your artistry. [He is utterly sincere, which may be the worst part.] ...they both are recovering yet, but they will be well. To forestall inquiry.