Chapter 17Cassraw stared up at the looming figure, his mouth suddenly dry and his insides hideously mobile. It did not matter that for the moment he had lost the wits to decide whether to remain silent, or to speak, or to call out for help, as his tongue was stuck to the roof of his mouth.
One old habit did not desert him, however, and instinctively his hand groped towards his pocket to pat the copy of the Santyth there. The figure’s head inclined slightly, then there was a violent oath, a flurry of movement, and Cassraw found himself blinking into an unbearably bright light.
He raised a hand to shield his eyes, but something knocked it aside painfully.
‘Stay still,’ a powerful voice commanded. ‘And keep your hands where I can see them, unless you want your skull cracked.’
Cassraw coul
