Chapter twentyA blind cretinous fool! An onker, an onker of onkers, a get onker! I ran. By Zair, how I ran!
I didn’t even bother to change my face from Drajak to Chaadur. There was no time for subtlety now, no time to disguise myself from the wrath of San Hargon. The time had passed and I’d been sucked in like any green coy. Now I had to race for San Tuong Mishuro faster than a speeding crossbow bolt — and bearing the shriveling knowledge I was already too late.
Because his guards had rushed off to the assistance of his friend the trylon, Mishuro’s gates stood unguarded. Like a maniac I roared in and through the villa charging for the inner doors where Llodi the Voice stood on duty.
He lay on the floor, his hand spread against his side. Dark blood welled between his fingers and stained
