Chapter eight
Kov Colun Mogper of MurshamWherever Jilian had sprung from, the people there had taught her swordplay. Also, and this I found highly intriguing, she stopped to pick up the thick black whip the slave-master had wielded. When we burst through into the inner tented enclosure of the army commander, Fat Lango, it was the whip which, cracking out like a striking risslaca tongue, barbed, lashed him into painful movement. He shrieked. The lash coiled and lifted and struck, and again Fat Lango shrieked.
Jilian laughed.
Her teeth were very white and even.
The guards here were apim, slothful, over-dressed and arrogant to the point of stupidity. They did not interfere as Jilian lashed Lango.
And, still, I carried the Krozair longsword scabbarded over my back.
The painted and perfum
