"I don't know."
"You must know something," I urge.
Our pittering footsteps reverberate through the stairwell.
Juwela fidgets with the folded towels in her grasp, the strange liquid soap neatly placed on top.
"All I know is that for the past three days, the Ecclesia have been occupied by an ongoing symposium. I know a few of the guards that shadow their assemblies, and they would not divulge even an inkling of their debate to me. But what was worrying is how bothered they seemed, aggressive towards my inquiry."
We amble down the flight. Welcomed by a whirring melody of the sound of ever-rushing water pelting the surface in a harmonious permanence. A strong torrent, yet it tempers with gentle swooshes.
"Then what of this, Tigress?" I prod on. "She is higher than them, and the Kumentah is above them all. Why is she not consulted in governmental assemblies?"
I trot off the last step.
