I have judged, white lords, I have judged, and I am sure that your fat brother, Black Windows, will be proud of you even in the lion's jaws.

Fear not; he shall hear every word.

The Singer of Egypt, who, it appears, can talk his tongue, shall tell the tale to him, and make a song of it to be sung over your honourable graves.

And now farewell; may it be my lot to cross swords with one of you before all is done.

That shall not be yet, for you need rest, especially yonder tall son of a god who is wounded," and he pointed to Orme.