‘Your humour’s misplaced, Derwyn Oakstock.’
Farnor started at the sound of the voice. It was as if someone was sitting next to him. Derwyn touched him lightly on the shoulder, then pointed. Farnor saw that one of the figures on the tiered seats in front of him had stood up. It was EmRan.
‘No formality, EmRan,’ Derwyn replied easily. ‘We’re only here to welcome a guest.’
‘We’re here to decide what to do with an intruder. An intruder who drew a knife on me,’ EmRan retorted angrily.
There was a murmur from the crowd in the background. Derwyn raised his hand calmly and the murmur faded.
‘Menacing someone with a weapon is indeed a serious matter,’ he acknowledged, earnestly. ‘One that we must certainly discuss in the fullest detail before we disperse.’
‘What’s to discuss, man?’ EmRan’s vo
