Chapter tenThe moment hung, tense with the prospect of imminent and sudden death.
Now Otto the Lance, who liked to call himself Surrey, was a kregoinye chosen by the Star Lords. The Everoinye do not make their choices lightly — although they’d told me often enough how dubious they considered me to be — and the folk who serve them are masters and mistresses of their professions.
This sprightly newcomer in the shadows was a mere dark shape. His sword blade pressed in, digging deeper, demandingly.
Thinking to give Surrey the chance, I said: “Quidang, notor!” and bent to place Esme down, making sure she rested comfortably in the bedclothes.
Surrey reacted as a true kregoinye. He took the chance.
He moved with supple speed. That strange sword of his flicked, the stranger’s brand swept side
