Chapter 9
MILLEUS ROSE at first light, much earlier than he would have liked, and still feeling tired after a few measly hours of sleep. Mercy, he was way too old for these night-time escapades. Outside, the light was still dawn-blue, filtered through a grey-blue haze. The air smelled of fire, although from his position, any evidence of the fights from night before was well-hidden. The tent entrances were shut, and the alleys between tents were empty, except for a few black-clad sentries by the large tent, hands in their pockets. The Chevakian tents, too, were still closed.
Heaving a sigh, he opened the door and let himself down from the truck. As soon as he set foot on the ground, the goats started jostling each other to the corner of the pen, clanking their hooves in the food trough.
