Chapter four“Who in a Herrelldrin Hell is Larghos Fernleigh?”
“My chief stylor.”
“Well?”
He fingered his scar again, and this time there was calculation in that stroking finger. “There are witnesses—”
“What confounded witnesses?” I wouldn’t give this rast the satisfaction of making me stand up. I sat. I stared up malevolently.
Nath the Clis stood his ground, give the rogue that. “The two watchmen who found the body. You were the only other person present. Oh, yes, you were wearing a silly disguise.” He sniggered. “A ponsho fleece, I’m told. You and no one else was there. You murdered Larghos Fernleigh.”
Tobi Vingal, a chavpaktun, a mercenary who wore the bronze chavonth head at his throat, a right roaring reckless fellow, drew his sword. This was his favorite lynxter, the sword of Lo
