“There must be good in him.” Duhrra rubbed his hook flat over his bald head, a trick that, at first, had quite turned my stomach. Now I was used to it. He put his thoughts awkwardly into words, reverting to his old ways. “Duh — I wonder if his good outweighs his bad. A rogue, yes, but I believe his heart still belongs to Zair.”
He could have said “his heart is still in the right place,” but that would not have conveyed the flavor of his thoughts.
“Then,” I said, “he has sent a damned lot of good Zairians up to Zim to spy out his welcome.”
“That, of course, he will pay for.”
For my own plans to prosper I needed something like the enormous prize that Gafard would represent. If I could haul him in at the end of a chain and dump him down in the Krozair Isle of Zy, display him a captive to
