His voice was the groaning of the thunder before the lightning came. His anger was a barely restrained thing, but the vein was already bulging heavily in his forehead. He looked quite set to explode.
The merchants that he had brought with him took the opportunity almost greedily. The smallest amongst them, with his earrings, rose up his hand, as he sucked on his gums ponderously, trying to work up the slightest bit of moisture toward his tongue so that he might speak.
"If I may, my Lord…" he said.
"You may," Ferdinand said dismissively, his gaze not leaving Oliver for a second. It was as if he thought he could pin him in place by keeping an eye on him. Somehow, he thought he might prevent him from any further deviousness, like trapping a spider under a glass.
