Bogumir's chest shakes, but this time
instead of a snarl, it's a deep "hoo hoo hoo" of bitter laughter.
"If I died tomorrow,
what I've done would live on, even if
just in story. I'm glad she's dead, but it changes nothing of what
As the apkallu withdraws, however, he gives her no space. The
ruddy giant leans forward on his throne, still head and shoulders above
"And that's the gift you bear this
time, eh? Healing?" He lifts her chin with the first knuckle
of a thick, gnarled finger so she has to meet his eyes, glowering under
bushy white brows.
His thumb touches her plump lower lip,
red on black. "Will your magic put another horn on my head?
Will it mend the humiliation I've suffered?
Will it make a cruel brigand into the
honorable man your flattery names me?"