Nelirikk sipped from his canteen. He was, Val Con thought, a woodsman the like of which Gylles had rarely seen: bold in black-and-red plaid flannel, work pants, sturdy boots, with a red knit cap pulled down over his ears in deference to the chill of dusk.
And yos'Phelium abandons a brother even less readily than Korval relinquishes a child.
Val Con grinned. "Anyone may break a glass," he quoted, "but it takes a master to break a dozen."
"There are, so I'm told by the Old Scout, certain protocols for operations on forbidden worlds."
"You made a good choice, Cory. This world's been changing for a long time. Would you believe I remember a time the nearest telephone was right downtown at Brillit's?"
"Sleep well, Zhena Trelu. We will bring our child to see you -- soon."
"Dog of a Liaden, prepare to die," Nelirikk said calmly.
"The captain will have me shot," Nelirikk said, stubbornly.