Girvan smiled. ‘Brother,’ he said in some considerable surprise. Then he leaned across to embrace him.
‘What’s drawn you from your relentless pursuit of idle leisure down at Westryn,’ he said, still holding him.
Girven laughed. ‘Our Festival Helangai, brother,’ he said. ‘I saw your Line had volunteered for coast watch duty to avoid being soundly beaten again so I decided to seek you out and offer you yet more instruction in the subtler arts of the game.’
Girvan smiled and shook his head. ‘You’re quite right,’ he said. ‘Avoiding your Line in the Helangai is always uppermost in my mind, as it is with anyone else who’s survived so far in life without being kicked in the head by a horse.’
Girven beamed, and his brother ploughed on.
‘However, I’d happily have my people trounce them, were i
