Chapter nineteen
Of a big toe and mockeryI, Dray Prescot, of Earth and of Kregen, with a whole gaudy raggle-taggle tail of high-sounding names, paced my stone cell, four paces north, four paces south, over and over, and if every now and again I thumped a fist against the stone walls so that my knuckles buzzed — I felt Zair and Opaz and Djan were dealing most unkindly with me.
Many a Kregan in my position might think that Havil the Green, or Lem the Silver Leem, had gained an ascendancy. I would not countenance the thought that Grodno so much as breathed in Zair’s pure air — although I had seen sights that made me realize the reality. I was locked in that reeking palace of Queen Thyllis of Hamal. I had seen sights that made me think that perhaps the damned Grodnims of the green northern s
