Chapter seventeen
Of the eye of a vollermanThere is little communication — for obvious reasons — between the four color corners. Each corner is a world to itself. And the area reserved for the queen’s kaidurs is, in those terms, a double world to itself. We found Oby flat on his back under a half-dismantled voller. He worked — as a slave — for one of the managers of the yellows who fought for the diamond zhantil.
Naghan kicked his foot. He bent down.
“Oby! Come on out — and quietly.”
“Go away, rast, whoever you are,” said Oby’s familiar voice. He had been a mere youngster, and now he was a man, nimble, strong, adept with a knife, obsessed with vollers.
I said, “I am Chaadur the Iarvin, and Naghan the Gnat kicked your foot, for he is no respecter of persons.”
Oby came out so fast he h
