The Astarte of the B

Lane's originally relaxed expression tightened abruptly, returning to the cold indifference of ice. His body, along with the aged steed, froze solid.,Polton, as if reminded by Brun's words, turned his unmoving cat eyes towards the farmer sprawled in the field.,He dismounted with a clatter of plate mail, but instead of drawing the sword from his back, he drew the dagger hanging from his breast.。