Chapter eightClad in my new clothes, bright green, hideous, uncomfortable, I took myself off to collect my winnings. At least I’d had a bath and cleaned off the muck, mud, red dye and dust. The disappearance of my armory was serious, yet I did not wish to spend any cash on new swords until I’d found out how much the magistrates wanted for the fine. Anyway, in all probability I’d only be able to buy the Krasny work blades they sold down here in Balintol. Mind you, Fweygo had said that Kildrin did produce fine steel — at a price.
The prison turned out to be a lumpy stone building. The warders had the grim, no-nonsense faces of prison guards. The pervading smells of dirt and burned green vegetables and disinfectant brought back unhappy memories, by Krun!
Waiting at the desk where a Relt wro
