Shadowfire 2. [antikvár]

Prologue Previously*, I have recounted how I spent my youth among the tribal krarls of the Red Dagkta. How I was named Tuvek and bélieved myself the son of Ettook, the krarl's chief, and his out-tribe wife, Tathra. How I was tattooed in the Boys Rite, when the tattoos did not remain on my skin I must fight grown men to prove myself—^which skirmish I won and to spare, earning thereby tiie enmity of the krarl's stinking seer, Seel. Neither did Ettook much like me, though he told me to pick a gift from his treasure chest. I chose a silver lynx mask, because it was workmanship of the old cities—^his prize. I became a warrior of the krarl, unequalled and fighting-mad, yet I was dissatisfied with my life, not knowhig why. My flesh had a strange knack of healing. No wound festered; I even survived the bite of a venomous snake. When I was nineteen, the krarls were at a Spring Gathering when we were attacked by city-men and their cannon. These cities lay over the mountains, ancient, corrupt and decayed. The folk there went masked, man or woman—only our females hid their faces in the shireen—and supposed themselves descended from a god-race, superior to humanity. They captured many of our men in their raid, and bore them off to be slaves. I alone dared follow, with rescue and loot in mind. However, near the raiders' camp, a strange force seemed to take possession of me. I found I could speak the city tongue. More, the raiders mistook me for another, a man they feared and named Vazkor. It was easy to free their captives and slaughter the city-men íq their alarm. Among their pavilions I *Shadowfire by Tanith Lee.