Chapter sevenI, Dray Prescot, Lord of Strombor and Krozair of Zy, was far from a happy fellow that evening as I sat dangling my legs over the boat’s bows and watched the twin suns go down.
Strom Hangol had run after me, yelling and waving the rapier he’d ripped from its scabbard. I had not waited. Rendi the Keel, the master, had decided he would not hang about, either. So, I had run off from a foeman. Well, I’ve run away before, and by Vox I don’t doubt I’ll run away again in the future. I am no longer the headstrong Dray Prescot who first came to Kregen under the Suns of Scorpio. All the same, it rankled...
And I can be even more headstrong and violent now than ever I could. The passage of the seasons has tended to channel the direction of those efforts.
The river burbled on and I sett
