“The Yamanis don’t have them. They just beat each other half to death in training.” “They sound like sensible people. Do they hold banquets?” Raoul asked wistfully. “Better,” Kel told him. “They have parties where they view the moon in reflecting ponds, or fireflies in lanterns, or patterns of cherry tree blossoms against the sky, and they make up poetry about it.” Raoul shuddered and changed the subject.
