“While window glass gave a view—hardly distorted at all—of an inner court where blooming had long since ended, roses from a solarium planter filled a crystal vase on an inlaid table. Books numbered a score, both Greek and Latin. Pavle Subitj, Ban of Hrvatska, was in his heart more a man of the West than of the East. Tall in a silken robe, white hair and beard neatly trimmed, he seemed no less than the Liri king, though Vanimen, likewise attired in what was his gift, did loom above him. Both had ...grown too intense in their discourse to remain seated. “Yes, I hope your tribe will stay in this realm,” he was saying. “Perhaps I’ve not made sufficiently clear how much I want it. Your unique abilities—as fishermen, sailors, pilots you’ll be valuable. But a new war is brewing with Venice. In that, you could be priceless.” He studied the other. “Of course, I’d reward such service as best as I was able.” Vanimen scowled. “Why should we enter a quarrel that’s none of ours?”MoreLessRead More Read Less
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