That didn't stop an evilly grinning Svengal from asking after his health at every possible opportunity, or offering him choice titbits from the wolfship's limited larder. 'Chicken leg?' he said, an innocent grin splitting his face. 'Bit greasy but good nevertheless. Just the thing to stick to a man's ribs.' 'Svengal,' Halt said for the tenth time, 'I am over it. Are we clear on that? I am over being seasick. And I am definitely over your attempts to make me heave my insides over the railing.' Svengal looked unconvinced. He knew Halt's strength of mind and he was sure that he was bluffing — that, deep down, the Ranger's stomach was still in turmoil. All it needed was a little suggestive prodding. 'If it's not to your taste, I've some lovely pureed chestnut sauce you could smother it in?' he suggested hopefully. 'Very well,' Halt agreed, 'give me the chicken leg. And fetch me the chestnut sauce — and some pickled cucumbers while you're about it.
