Alpheo leaned back against the goose-feather pillows, facing the first true interrogation since he woke.
Jarza wanted to know the deal with the Kakunian. It was a fair question; Alpheo only wished he had a fair answer.
"Truth be stated, Jarza, I haven't got the slightest idea," he admitted, his voice cracking with the briefest of cough"The man is as much a mystery as he is a miracle of violence. Before the horns blew, he whispered in my ear that I was a disappointment. Then, in the thick of that red soup, he embraced me like a long-lost brother returned from the grave. Is he a friend? Is he a foe? I don't have the damnedest hint.All we know is that we both danced in that field.
Perhaps it was just a passing madness, a fever of the blood that will break by morning. Whatever the case, it serves us to keep him close. For now, he is a sword I'd rather have sheathed at my side than searching for the inner of my ribs."
