Chapter nineteen
Duurn the DoomsayerHe brushed up his reddish whiskers under that smart foxy nose and his bright eyes appeared almost crossed, so shrewd were they.
“If we steal away the treasure again — which we could do, by Horato the Potent, which we could do! — that misbegotten, white-haired she-witch will melt it all back.”
“Let us take the treasure, anyway; then, by the oozing sores and desiccating limbs of the Divine Lady of Belschutz, if the witch does, she does.”
Other voices lifted in passionate argument, each demanding to go down and seize Strom Murgon’s treasure and let that damned frizzle-haired witch try to do her worst.
We were all sitting or lounging in the main saloon of the voller Golden Zhantil. After that beautiful reunion with Dayra, I had, instead of going on to P
