“No!” The ranting wizard waved his hands theatrically and his horse snorted in surprise. With a curse, the wizard snatched at the reins wrapped around the saddlehorn. “That's not entirely Aramon's fault,” replied the priest. “It was Gorgar that decided to brag about us.” “He didn't decide anything,” the wizard snapped, squirming in the saddle. “He drank enough mead to drown a horse—and I wish we could drown this blasted beast!” The priest's eyes twinkled blue. “If you would remem...ber that the objective is to keep your backside in contact with the saddle—you sit on it, you know—instead of standing in the stirrups, you might find it more comfortable.” “I should have brought another blanket, Tindal,” moaned the wizard, miserably. “What's this about a blanket?” asked Gorgar as he rode up from the rear of the group.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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