Chapter seven
Some artists of KregenHad those fingers not grabbed for the sacks first, there was every chance the very knobby stick would have hit me four square. That scrabbling slide of warning gave me time enough to lunge sideways. The confoundedly knobby stick only hit me over the head with sufficient force to drive me headlong into the capacious stomach of a large man and start around half the bells of Beng Kishi clanging in my skull.
The large-stomached man said, “Whoof!”
I fell over him, already starting to pitch onto a shoulder so as to roll and come up snarling. The tap room blurred in a haze and three fierce and deliberate blinks barely cleared the mist in my eyes. Stomach belched and leaned down.
“I’ll forgive you the onslaught on my stomach, young man, seeing Black Sadrap h
