Chapter fifteen
Of questions and reminders“No. Never heard of him.”
“A little fellow. Very cheery. The best armorer you could hope to find.”
“Sorry, dom.”
I turned away. This was the fifth dead end. Around me the familiar — hatefully familiar — sounds of the practice rings rose into the evening sky. The bulk of the amphitheater cast deep and imposing shadows. The smaller courts blocked off the last rays of Zim and Genodras, which in Havilfar are known as Far and Havil. The clink of steel on steel, the swift stamp and scrape of foot, the hoarse intake of breath, all these blood-quickening sounds served on this evening only to depress me. The Jikhorkdun was vast. It was a labyrinth.
This maze might not be quite as dangerous as that labyrinth within the Moder, down which we had ventured,
