The architects built this hallway too damn wide. 

It's more crowded than even the market. Azura in every shade of blue mingle with servitors and supplicants. Everywhere, the susurrus of softened speech and hushed voices. Prayer, study, books, people further than the eye can see. 

And around each one, there's space. Ample room to pass without disturbing anyone. Not a single opportunity to bump against someone, or dance between passing students, or apologize profusely for knocking someone down and sending the jar careening down the hall.

As if she could do anything but cradle the jar like a baby. 

Finally, she spots an open room, and darts for it like it's salvation. She slams the door behind her, lowers the jar gently onto a desk, and scans the room. The chair seems like it'd splinter well--some kind of antique wood, high-backed, overly stuffed and plush. Perfect.

The spear whistles as it comes down--and stops, twitching, an inch from the velvet padding.

Or my property. Damn. Damn!

She wills the spear to drop that last inch, and, after a futile few seconds, sags into the chair.

"I thought for sure that she would kill you," she spits.  "That is what you taught me, after all. An enemy who will not be turned to usefulness? Who has fought you for years? Surely, you would have not have permitted her to live if your positions were reversed. I could not strike the blow myself, but if I delivered you into her hands, gift-wrapped, she could not help but solidify her reign.

"And then, on Barassidar, again I thought myself rid of you! A head in a jar! What could be more harmless? A threat to no-one! No mobility, no divination, no empire, no friends! A kinslayer I, cursed of the gods, and happy to be so if it meant you were gone!"

She seethes, and finally meets his gaze. "How many times, Liu Ban? How many times must you die before I can finally be free?"