“Father,” Bergon cried joyously, “this is the man! This is the man!” “What,” Cazaril began, and then, by some trick of angle and shift of voice, he knew. Cazaril’s own gape turned to grin. The boy has grown! Roll him back a year in time and four inches in height, erase the beard-shadow, shave the head, add a peck of puppy fat and a blistering sunburn…“Five gods,” he breathed. “Danni? Danni!” The
Father, this is the man!
Five gods, Danni (the young oarsman Caz tried to protect from sodomy)
