Her red hair was a blaze upon the pillow above the bone-whiteness of her face, and the lids lay heavily over the yellow fire of her eyes. Life had gushed out of her in great scarlet spurts from the pike-wound deep in her side, and the whispering women who hovered at the door were telling one anot...
Something wet and cold was slapping his face, and the familiar fiery sting of segir-whisky burnt his throat. “Smith!” Yarol's voice was saying from far away. “N. W.! Wake up, damn you! Wake up!” “I'm — awake,” Smith managed to articulate thickly. “W...