Chapter eleven
We assist at Strom Murgon’s feastThe way before us was blocked solidly by a mass of masonry extending from wall to wall and from floor to ceiling.
“The devil take it!” exclaimed Pompino.
He twisted up Jespar’s ear.
“Well, tump!”
“I do not know, master! Maybe, maybe the noise — we were heard — maybe Murgon has triggered more traps—”
“That cross-passage fifty paces back may lead us in the direction we wish to go,” suggested Naghan the Pellendur. He glanced at the slumped figure of Rondas the Bold. “We must hurry—”
“Aye,” said Nath Kemchug, busy with rags and oil.
I took great heart from this small exchange. I have said many times that most of the folk of Kregen did not get on with Rapas. But one became accustomed to their smell after a time. Not all were evil. No more
