Chapter eleven
Of another fistThe smells of cooking wafted deliciously from the back quarters of The Dragon’s Roost. The scurry of slaves intruded an unpleasant note into an idyllic scene; but all in Opaz’s good time we would remove the blot of slavery from Paz. We followed Hop the Intemperate through a room stuffed with sacks and boxes of food and hanging garlands of vegetables, and along a corridor. The kitchens lay ahead, and my mouth watered.
Hop opened the door and motioned for us to go through.
Seg went first.
I followed.
As I turned to look back for Hop an object of considerable hardness, some size, of rugged knobbyness and traveling at a goodly speed slap-bang-crashed into my chin.
I went over backwards, upsetting a pile of copper pots.
Girls started screaming. Steam filled
