It wasn’t the first time he’d run for his life. And it most likely wouldnot be the last. In the past few decades, though, he’d mostly run fromangry fathers who’d found him where they felt he should not be. Or he’drun from town guards—sent by angry fathers who’d found him where theyfelt he should not be.

Don't make me cover your face with a pillow until you see my side of things.""Isn't that called murder?

Explain to me again why we’re at a whorehouse?”Gwenvael sighed around his ale. “Because, my thick-headedbrother, if you want information about human men then you go to theone place all human men come to eventually.