“Where are you taking me?” “Home.” “And where is home?” I pressed, my frustration levels rising. He took a deep pull from his beer, the muscles beneath the tattooed skin of his neck working. “The place where I was born.” “Urgh! Do you have to be so difficult?” His eyes danced. “It isn’t mandatory, but I do enjoy it.” “Kingfisher!” “I’m taking you to the borderlands, Osha. A small fiefdom at the very edge of Yvelian territory. A place called Cahlish.”
