Chapter Three
Lying in bed in a house not his own, Devary Kant could not help reflecting that the last few weeks had not gone particularly well.
He did not enjoy fighting for its own sake. Indeed, he would rather avoid it and he had always felt that way. But he was, once in a while, called upon to defend himself and so he had dutifully committed many hours of his life to the development of considerable combat ability.
He was also periodically required to defend others. This, he felt, was the more important duty. To fail so completely to defend a woman committed to his care was intolerable; worse when that charge had been Llandry Sanfaer, daughter of his oldest friend. That he himself had been injured almost to the point of death in her defence was no consolation. He should have died rat
