A MIRT GLIMPSE: ONE OLD LORD TOO MANY

“I don’t know what to make of him, to tell truth. He’s fat and old and wheezing, and shuffles around everywhere like an alley-drunk, but Laeral uses him as her pet sneak-thief and somehow he stays alive, damn him, through scrape after skirmish after spell-duel! I don’t know how he does it!”

“Wrapped in her protective spells, of course. What would kill you and me for sure and certain, he staggers through not noticing or feeling. Get rid of her magic, and he’ll be one more sack of old bones bleeding out his feeble last on the stones at your feet.”

“He’s cunning, though. And so’s she. Easy enough to say ‘get rid...

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