Zelgadis wasn't liking the silence at all. His frown deepened, his forehead creasing with the unease building within; he could feel his fingernails digging into the palms of his hands. When Geddoe finally said anything at all, the cold chill was practically just for the sake of having heard anything, regardless of the content. His brow continued to knit as he began to mull over what he meant by that.

That was you right? But the grandpa killed him.

He leaned back, all that blood and color that had rushed to his face such a short time ago very much gone. Once, a long time ago, he had bragged about his invulnerability in the face of a duel. If you want to kill me, you better make it a sword of light!

Well, then.

He sank back into the chair, sliding a little, staring well away from Geddoe.

"Oh," he said dumbly.