[ Tazim studied the other's reaction carefully, ever alert to their mutual uneasiness, the disbelief and stubborn refusal for mutual acceptence blanketing them and seeming to block out all the rest of the world as well. ]

I have a physical description. [ His response was icy; here was ground sacred to Tazim- even the Brotherhood was second to the memory, the honor of his father. It was clear in the way Tazim's shoulders drew up, tensing visibly that this was something deeply important to him-

And a wound that he had perhaps not recovered from.

Physical description of Malik or no, the other actually being there was so farfetched, so impossible that was it really any surprise Tazim denied it? His father was long dead- he had never met him for himself, and even if he was still alive he would have been an old man. Not anything like Malik, standing directly before him. ]

You know nothing, and I will tolerate you insulting me, or the memory of my father.