Chapter seven
Twayne GullikDespite being quartered in a corner of the garrison’s barracks within the Zhantil Palace, Pompino and I set watches for the night.
The barracks was practically empty, the long rooms echoing to our voices and footfalls. The rows of bunks, each piled with bedding, lay dustily under the dusty beams. Of men at arms to serve the palace there were but twenty-four. Two dozen fighting men to guard the kovneva, and of these some were not fit to be called paktuns.
The cadade, the captain of the guard, turned out to be a Fristle with patches of fur missing from both cheeks. At least, he saw to a proper burial for Ridzi the Rangora.
For this I thanked him, and gave him a donation in thanks.
“Kov Pando took most of the guards with him when he went to Pomdermam,” said Fra
