‘Nethpara. He could have let you go. Let you cross. Alone. Under the shelter of Korbolo Dom’s glorious mercy. How many have died this day? How many of these soldiers, how many Wickans, have given their lives to protect your hide?’ ‘L-let go of me, you foul slave-spawn!’ A red mist blossomed before Duiker’s eyes. He took the nobleman’s flabby neck in both hands and began squeezing. He watched Nethpara’s eyes bulge.
