Chapter nineSchanake swung about. He faced me with his body shielding mine from the gaze of his compatriots running up the beach.
Gripping my branch I prepared to defend myself from the two-handed sword.
His small mouth opened widely. Knowing, as he thought, that I could not understand his words, he used his free hand to push me in the shoulder. He thrust me back.
In Schannish, he spat out: “Go on, you must escape.” Then, surprising me, he spoke the Kregish word for ‘get out!’
“Schtump! Schtump!”
He made of the word a veritable splashing avalanche.
I lowered the branch. I gave him a look which he might interpret as surprise, thanks, relief. I said: “I’ll see you again, fishface, never fear!” Then I ran off into the trees.
As I sprinted off I shook my head in disbelief. What in Krege
