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Chapter Ten

THEY REACHED the mountains, the path opening onto a sickle-shaped plain which curved its narrow length between the mountains and the sea. Megan guided them to the summit of the cliffs below which the sea roiled in thunderous fury. He halted and dropped the rope.

"Here," he announced. "This is the best place to stay."

One of the guards stepped closer to the edge. "Are you sure?"

"I'm sure." Megan's face was strained in the cold glow of the lights. "This is the place."

The Prince of Emmened looked down from his seat on the raft. He listened to the hungry roar of the sea and spoke to Crowder.

"Did the factor say which place was best?"

"No, My Lord. But this man has been here many times before. He should know."

"He should," agreed the prince. "But he is one we whipped on the first part of our journey. We will go closer to the mountains. Much closer."

He leaned back, smiling in ironical amusement as Crowder gave the order, smiling still wider as he saw how Megan's shoulders flinched from the weight of the rope. It had been a brave attempt but it had failed and he could gain satisfaction from the smallest of victories.

"That man," he ordered pointing to Megan. "When we camp give him nothing. If he argues tell him that he is paying for his failure. He will understand."


* * * | The Winds of Gath | * * *



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