The coldness of the snow offered his only relief from the excruciating pain in his head; for Bilblox, it felt as if someone were slicing his brain in half, very slowly, with a red-hot knife that had been heated on the coals of a fire. Time ticked away slowly, imperceptibly – perhaps it was hours, perhaps it was days that passed – it was impossible to tell. Eventually, mercifully, the longshoreman fell into a very dark and prolonged sleep. When he finally rose from his slumber, Bilblox heard the sound of swords – and a great many of them – being drawn from their scabbards. He forced himself to pry open one of his eye. The light from the sun was blinding, but as the world around him came into focus, he saw that he was surrounded. There were four dozen soldiers, all dressed in leather armor adorned with feathers – the trademark garb of Dragoonya horsemen. Kiril was standing with them, looking remarkably at ease.“Where did they come from?” groaned Bilblox.“From an outpost just south of Dargora,”
