Thraxas and the Ice Dragon / Траксас и леденият дракон: Двадесет и пета глава

"It seems my father was right about you," says Merlione, regaining her composure. "You have no skills at all. You should leave."

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I stare at her for a long moment, then turn round and walk out the reception room. In the hall outside there's a portrait of her father, in full military uniform. It's a poor painting. Samsarinans have never been any good at art. I'm starting to dislike them as much as Simnians.

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