CHAPTER 7THE SINGING
About the perimeter of the town of tents, the Thungoda had posted their sentries. These leaned upon their hooked spears, yawning and scratching lazily, wishing they could be relieved so as to join their comrades in the plundering of Grand Khev. From time to time, one of the sentries glanced uncaringly at the knoll where the last defenders of Khev had made their stand.
Now one of these straightened, blinked, nudged a companion.
Towards the mengli a tall, gaunt figure in black leather came striding.
As he walked, he…sang.
They watched the lone man curiously, but with indifference. He was alone and unarmed, and in their fur and iron, in their armed numbers, they feared him not. But they were curious.
For he seemed as unafraid of them as they were of him.
Now the so
