The door of Simon's private combat chamber closed behind Sava and Ivara.
Neither spoke immediately.
They walked through one of Red Sand Hall's upper corridors with the empty trays balanced in their hands. Red lamps burned inside shallow hollows along the walls, while the distant roar of the public arenas travelled through the dark stone beneath their feet.
The disguises of two ordinary attendants still covered their faces, and only after they had passed three private chambers and descended a short flight of stairs did Sava finally speak.
"There is something wrong with him."
Her voice was quiet and solemn. The embarrassment and fury she had shown inside Simon's chamber were gone, replaced by an indifferent expression and a faint coldness in her dull-violet eyes.
Ivara walked beside her without looking over.
"That is a broad conclusion."
"You know what I mean."
Sava's fingers tightened slightly beneath her tray.
