CHAPTER SEVEN
Jocelyn and Cynda had been replaced by two servants (who were just that and not to be touched, Tomar warned) who brought rather large glasses of a pale amber wine. Sitting cross-legged and bare-ass naked among the white pillows, Ponkert sipped at the fermented brew and found it strangely reminiscent of a St. Emilion Bordeaux he had once discovered on Earth. The wine had basically the same effects of warming his stomach and mellowing his outlook on life.
"Tomar," he mused, lifting the glass for another flavorful sip, "there's something different about you. Something that doesn't seem to fit."
The ruler raised an eyebrow at his companion, but only "mmmmmed" a little.
Not wishing to let it go at that, Ponkert pursued his train of thought, "At first glance you seem native eno
