Three strides through, in the cloakroom, a grimy child stood as if awaiting them. He stared up at Kagamandra without expression. He was dressed in a tattered deerskin tunic, his lower legs bare and his feet stained black by ash and the greasy stone tiles. ‘Ah, one of my hostages? Very well.’ Kagamandra approached the child and reached out a hand to rest it upon the thin shoulder. The boy bared his teeth and growled. Kagamandra snatched his hand back. ‘Jhelarkan hostages, milord,’ said Braphen. ‘This one is named Gear.’
POINT MEME
