Sir Gort was the son of my father’s cousin. A warrior of some renown.’ ‘Well …’ I guessed some tales grew in the telling and that too much fear might sometimes look like no fear at all. Either way, the queen had given me a gift and it was beholden to me to milk it. ‘My people do call me the hero of the pass. I supposed it’s fitting that the Scorrons call me the devil. I will wear the name with pride.’
