There was a trap laid there. He'd stepped back in the sand, but he'd coiled the whip that was his weapon behind his back. Vol's instincts allowed him to see it well enough, but how would Batinkog and Penelope fair?
"Adequately compensated?" Batinkog frowned. "My good man, we took apart the crew of six ships, with a mere fifty men of our own, and with a mere hundred ordinary soldiers as reinforcements, and you offer as much as you might have if we'd merely managed to defend those towers without a battle."
The whip lashed out, as the clerk went on the offensive. "Indeed. For that was the quest, was it not? That is typically how it goes."
