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... ation of someone briskly jabbing him in the ribs. He startled awake, eyes stinging, and found a dark-haired woman in a padded brown surcoat staring down at him. The butt of her spear was raised but a few inches above his ribs, ready to strike. Marcella again, joy.
“What do you want?” he groaned out.
"Good morning, Ferrando,” the mercenary brightly said. “Smile, I have good news.”
“You are getting transferred to the opposite end of Asphodel and we will never meet again,” h ...
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