Keriya frowned before she could stop herself. Since that gave her away, she opened her eyes. She was staring at the ceiling of a shabby canvas tent. Her muscles screamed in protest when she twisted her head to stare at the three men by the entrance. The tallest of the trio was a massive Fironian with a shaved head. The shortest was a scrawny, rat-faced Galantrian with mean eyes and a sorry excuse for a goatee. And the man in the middle . . .
“Cezon Skyriver,” she rasped, staring at the first Allentrian she’d ever met. His dark hair was longer and more untidy than she remembered, but the rest of him was the same, down to the eyepatch which she knew concealed a second perfectly good blue eye. “Fletcher told me you were dead.”
Keriya had mixed feelings about Cezon. He’d helped her get to No
