Lisutaris, Mistress of the Sky, draws herself up to her full height. Her cloak, elegant dark blue with the Sorcerer's rainbow motif embroidered around the edge, flutters regally in the breeze. #151 | | |
"Pie-eating is an honourable occupation where I come from. I'm proud of my Chief Adviser's endeavours." #152 | | |
"Really?" Lasat smirks. "I wouldn't allow a member of my staff to participate." #153 | | |
"What you would or would not allow is of no consequence to me. Thraxas's mighty appetite has often been the precursor to some of his most brilliant advice. Come, Thraxas, and Makri. It's time to prepare for the sword-fighting competition." With that, Lisutaris sweeps away, head held high. We follow on. #154 | | |
"Thanks for the support," I say. #155 | | |
"You're welcome. If you do actually meet the king, try not to mention the pie-eating. Makri, are you ready to fight?" #156 | | |
Makri nods. She has an extremely determined glint in her eyes. Her group will finish today, which means she'll have four fights in quick succession. That's a tough schedule. I leave them on their way to the changing room, while I hurry off to the bookmakers to place the fifty gurans I won. #157 | | |
