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One of the birds shat on Gravel as I pedalled up the path to town on the Tuesday morning. I stopped, glared up at the wheeling gulls and a couple of thrushes, then got some grass and wiped the yellow-white mess off the front guard.
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He wiped at his upper lip, then ran his fingers through his hair. He was a small, compact Chinese of Shanghainese extraction who was normally calm and clear headed.
His reign had become material to her. Now, he was moving into the New World, in his efforts to extinguish magic. Ann had observed over time that whenever Jagang swallowed a new land or kingdom, he would settle in as he began to infiltrate the next, and the next after that.
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He's dead, but he's returning? Youll understand more, soon, but for now suffice it to say that if my suspicions are right, there is far more concerned with this war than merely defeating mad creatures bent on mindless destruction.
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