Chapter twelve
Of Duhrra, dopa, and friendsI, Gadak, a Green Grodnim of very dubious reliability, watched moodily as the army disembarked. There seemed to be no end to the lines of marching men, the strings of sectrixes, the rolling thunder of the varters on their wheeled carriages. There were hebramen, also, and the Grodnims considered these would give them a decided advantage in scouting against the Zairians.
So I stood on the quarterdeck of Volgodont’s Fang, where she had been pulled up onto the shelving beach, and I brooded.
Duhrra stood with me and he breathed harshly through his opened mouth, his hook hidden within his green robe.
“You are sure he did not recognize you, Dak — Gadak?”
“No. Anyway, I had a fold of white cloth about my face. I fancy it is a precaution we could both
