What was that, Kurokuma?' asked one of the escorts riding near him. The others chuckled at the name. 'Nothing important,' Horace said. Then he looked at them suspiciously. 'What's this Kurokuma business?' The Senshi looked at him with a completely staight face. 'It's a term of great respect,' he said. Several others within earshot nodded confirmation. They too managed to remain straight-faced. It was a skill the Nihon-Jan had perfected. 'Great respect,' one of them echoed.

So I sent Halt to straighten matters out. Thought it might be a good idea to give him something to keep him busy." So what's Digby got to complain about?" Rodney asked. It was obvious from his tone that he felt no sympathy for the recalcitrant commander of Barga Hold. The Baron gestured for Lady Pauline to explain. Apparently," she said,"Halt threw him into the moat.

Get rid of their mast, knock holes in the hull, then get back on board." "You want us to sink her?" Gundar asked, and Halt shook his head. "No. I want her badly damaged but capable of making it back to port. I want the word to go out that the strange ship with the red falcon ensign"—he gestured to Evanlyn's ensign, flying from the mast top—"is manned by dangerous, hairy maniacs with axes and is to be avoided at all costs." "That sounds like us," Gundar said cheerfully.

You're not built for riding, either," Horace added. "I'd say more saddle sore than homesick." Svenal sighed ruefully, shifting his buttocks for the twentieth time to find a more comfortable spot. "It's true," he said. "I've been discovering parts of my backside I never knew existed.

There are always risks in battle. It's a dangerous business. The trick is to take the right ones.' [said Halt]. 'How do you know which are the right ones?' Shigeru asked. Halt glanced at his two younger companions. They grinned and answered in chorus, 'You wait and see if you win.

What are you looking at, foreigner?” the guard demanded roughly. The smile was a little unsettling. A prisoner shouldn’t smile at his captors like that. “I’m just making sure I can remember you,” Gilan told him. “Never know when that might be useful.

It formed into small drops on his weather beaten features, drops that rolled down his cheeks. Strangely, some of them tasted like salt.