A lifetime of practice provided Linsora with the skill to reach for knives without pausing to register surprise. The surprise itself prompted the action. Another Khizaran would have been ready with his own knives. Another Khizaran would probably not have sprung the surprise. Gordek knew Khizarans. He wasn’t quick enough to stop her from reaching for the knives. Not quick enough to stop her from bringing them up as far as her chest. But no farther. Certainly not as far as the throwing position she intended.
Her arms, willing to continue on the upward arc toward a throwing position, felt weighted with lead. The sour taste of Gordek covered something she could only label as peppery, probably Yorel. Her body could react to surprise in an instant. It hadn’t occurred to her to shield her brain.
“Ah, I see you know my guest, Linsora,” Yorel said. He stepped behind her and took the knives. The tastes vanished. “Permac, I would like to introduce you to my old friend, Daget Fanial. I believe Linsora knows him as Gordek.”
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