By David Weber
Whom the gods could recruit, they first tick off . . .
Our Hero: The not going Paladin, Bahzell Bahnakson of the pony Stealer Hradani. He¿s no knight in shining armor. He¿s a hradani, a race identified for his or her uncontrollable rages, bloodthirsty trends, and lack of ability to take care of civilized behavior. not one of the different 5 Races of guy like the hradani. in addition to his ethnic burden, Bahzell has difficulties of his personal to accommodate: a violated hostage bond, a vengeful prince, a cost on his head. He doesn¿t are looking to mess with anyone else¿s difficulties, not to mention a god¿s. not to mention the War God¿s! So how does he turn out 1000 leagues from domestic, neck-deep in political intrigue, assassins, demons, psionicists, evil sorcery, white sorcery, darkish gods, good gods, undesirable poets, grasping landlords, and such a lot of Bortalik Bay? good, it¿s all of the battle God¿s fault. . . .
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Nick ducked down, peeked back toward the pub. The bearded man still groped the woman, another man had stumbled outside puking, none of them were looking their way. Peter gave the pane a nudge with his foot and it popped open. The basement was a well of darkness. Peter looked up at Nick. ” Nick said. ” Nick took a quick step back as though from a viper. “Are you kidding me? ” A look of deep disappointment crossed Peter’s face. Nick was surprised to find this bothered him, that he cared at all what this wild kid thought.
Bennie had taken every cent. He’d have to find another way out of Brooklyn. Panic began to tighten his chest. Which way should he go? Marko could be anywhere, could be coming from any direction. Nick turned quickly and almost ran into Peter. Nick hadn’t even realized the boy had been following him. Peter’s eyes were full of mischief. ” Nick said. “Plan? ” Peter looked pleased. “They’ve got guns. They’re not fucking around either. ” Nick let out a harsh laugh. God, he thinks this is all some sort of game.
Said it’s gonna be a real horror show. I love horror shows. ” The limb above them shook and a host of leaves rained down. There followed a soft thump. Nick and Freddie saw him first. When Bennie and Jake caught their faces, they both jerked around. A boy, not much taller than Nick, stood on the pathway. He wore some sort of hand-stitched leather pants with pointy-toed boots sewn right into them. He also had on a raggedy tuxedo jacket, the old style, the kind with tails, with a black hoodie on underneath and a rawhide pack, almost a purse, strung across his chest.