On his way out, the Horn of the Mountain took a moment to pick out one of the unbroken bottles of aged hoji left on the shelf. He turned over his shoulder, his penetrating gaze falling back onto Shae with a touch of cold sympathy. “I’ve known her for twenty-five years. You have no choice but to fight, of course. But you can’t win.” Nau’s boots crunched on glass as he left the room.
