Chapter eight
Hunch, Nodgen and I are auctioned offHunch, the Tryfant slave who with Nodgen the Brokelsh and me cared for our master’s animals, was a very devil for roast chicken. Now he came flying back over the prostrate forms of the exhausted slaves in the retinue, stepping on outflung arms and legs, thumping on narrow stomachs, almost tripping, yet miraculously keeping his balance, the roast chicken clasped fiercely in his fist.
“Come back here! By Llunyush the Juice! I’ll have you!”
Fat Ringo, the master’s chief cook, pursued Hunch with a carving knife in one hand and a meat cleaver in the other. Fat Ringo was uttering the most blood-curdling threats as he ran, fat and purple and perspiring.
The first moon of the night, She of the Veils, was just lifting over the flat grazing land
