And so we come to Chapter Eleven. I’m running out of clever things to say about new chapters. I considered making a bankruptcy joke, but given the current economic situation that might be in bad taste.
I apologize to those readers who may have gotten accustomed to lots of explodey-choppy stuff for the relatively slow pace – trust me, it picks up again in a bit. Here’s your teaser:
Burhan translated for him, “I admit, your Highness, your pavilion is not so comfortable as my palace. But I am not so much older than when I traveled in the Ursene highlands, preaching the Word of God on little more than cold mountain water and stale marching bread. Your table is much more luxurious, and my companions now are not so likely to want to remove my head for a decoration on their fireplaces.”