“Are you sure you want to leave?”
“You keep asking me that, even though you know the answer.”
“I don’t have a good feeling about this.” Dagon’s voice was pleading, and full of worry. “I know what you want to do. I can sense it. And I know you have the Gods’ ear, that you know things I could not fathom, but this is madness. Stay here. Send Creticus to bring your families back here instead. Let them make Britannia their home.”
Lucius turned to Dagon. “You think the Gods are helping me in this? You think I’m privy to some great mystery? I’m not, Dagon. Until a couple of years before, I wasn’t privy to the origins of my own life, and now that it is branded upon my very chest, I still don’t understand it!”
Dagon stopped. He could see the anger coming back, the redness rising up from Lucius’
