There might be explanations due to Kytun; he would get them.
Kov Nath sagged back. How near death he was without treatment we did not know, but he would not leave here until he had given his word.
He knew that. That subtle c***k in his psychological armor, opened when he recognized he had met a man who could best him — and that man an apim! — widened more as he saw a way out. He forced himself to stand upright, panting now, the blood running, the sweat sparkling redly upon him. He threw the last djangir upon the floor.
“I accept! If I am to leave Djanduin, then it is to you, Dray Prescot, Lord of Strombor, that I pass on the Kovnate of Hyr Khor! To you I bestow Hyr Khor!”
This was perfectly legal, although I fancied the little crippled girl with the Bolinas would have to be seriously c
