Chapter eleven

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Chapter eleven Of another fistThe smells of cooking wafted deliciously from the back quarters of The Dragon’s Roost. The scurry of slaves intruded an unpleasant note into an idyllic scene; but all in Opaz’s good time we would remove the blot of slavery from Paz. We followed Hop the Intemperate through a room stuffed with sacks and boxes of food and hanging garlands of vegetables, and along a corridor. The kitchens lay ahead, and my mouth watered. Hop opened the door and motioned for us to go through. Seg went first. I followed. As I turned to look back for Hop an object of considerable hardness, some size, of rugged knobbyness and traveling at a goodly speed slap-bang-crashed into my chin. I went over backwards, upsetting a pile of copper pots. Girls started screaming. Steam filled

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