There is my hunting. Did you know that we hunt here, in the full hunting pink, with hounds?" No, Sir. That was an aspect of life in Kobekistan which h...d escaped my notice. I knew, of course, that the highest order of chivalry here is the Royal Huntsmen, but I never realised that there was a hunt." Oh, yes. A very fine sight these local dignitaries make in English hunting pink on fine horses. The only way you would know it wasn't the Quorn or some other English meet is that all the Kobekistanis. Someone had crafted it from cured hides and woven thread. Someone had brewed the beer inside the skin. Crafting meant skills and trade, and that required some degree of civilization. Which meant this nightmare realm was not all empty, wind-blasted wasteland.It would seem that even in Hell, the wheels of commerce still turned. Logan desperately wanted some of that. A real bed and real food would be a dream come true. And a bath! he thought. Dear God, I would kill for a hot shower.Ironically, he. More

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