Ankor Mauk eyed his young kinsman, a soft rumble of amusement escaping from his lips, just before he answered the youth honestly.
“Boy, you are far too clever for a youth so young as you. Aye, you meet the one and the same. This is the warrior-monk Roland. And he is the mercenary general named Demetrius of Croi.”
Jolin Malawei again eyed me intently, that wiry smirk of amusement still painted across his lips. In his aura, my Inner Eye witnessed, I saw a multitude of conflicting thoughts and emotions sweep across his mind. The youth did not trust Humans. A large portion of his thoughts drifted along the lines of either having me killed now or perhaps throw me in chains and use me as some form of bartering tool with the Hartooth. Perhaps a deal could be struck with his enemies which might
