Svengal lay groaning on the turf. His thighs were sheer agony. His buttocks ached. His calf muscles were on fire. Now, afterhe had tumbled off the small pony he was riding and thudded heavily to the turf on the point of his shoulder, the shoulder would hurt too. He concentrated on trying to find one part of his body that wasn't a giant source of pain and failed miserably. He opened his eyes. The first thing he saw was the face of the elderly pony that he had been riding peered down at him. Now what made you do a strange thing like that? The creature seemed to be asking.

Which leaves us to the question, what is he up to?" Evanlyn said. Will shrugged. "I suppose we'll find out soon enough," he said, and urged Tug forward to take up the point position once more. They found out the following evening.

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.

It’s a big raised platform at the end of the square, with steps running up to it.” Like a stage?” Evanlyn suggested. “Maybe they’re planning to put on a play?” Or an execution,” Horace said.

Always expect something to go wrong," he told him. "Believe me, if you're wrong, you're not dissapointed. If you're right, you're ready for it.

Idiots, Halt muttered. If we were here to cause trouble, we could simply ride them both down

Never give up because, if an opportunity arises, you have to be ready to take it.