Malia and Shanka stood on a hill above Rastaban’s camp and watched the soldiers scurry about, panicked at finding their guards and scouts unconscious in a heap on the south side of the valley.
“We could crush them in a single battle,” Malia said.
“We’re being patient right now,” Shanka said.
“What’s your plan? Or is it his plan?” Neither Malia nor any of the other soldiers asked about one man - old, greying, too spry to be real - who travelled with the troops.
“My plan is amusement,” Shanka said, “and evaluation.”
“No man is worthy of you.”
“No man yet.”
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