Chapter eleven
Concerning a silver sinver and a water jar“Watch out!” called Hundal the Oivon, running into our barrack room. “Here comes Tipp the Thrax. Get lost!”
At once a scramble began to get out of the confines of the barrack room and into the labyrinth of alleys and arcades fringing the arena. Fifty men, all stout fighting kaidurs, struggling to run away from a little, limping, lopsided Gon! But, this shriveled-up, shaven-headed Gon was Kyr Tipp the Thrax. He was a Queen’s Cheldur. We all knew what he wanted and we all prayed he did not have our names written down on his note pad. He had a gimlet eye, and a nose and chin in too close proximity, and Queen Fahia looked on him with great favor.
We scattered into the alleys between practice rings and yards, running under the high wal
