He carried a sword in his right hand, and the presence of
dirt and grime on him was self-evident by the smell.
The newcomer entered and greeted Ibi formally, and -at Ibi's bidding-
turned and looked upon Si'Wren with bold, appraising eyes that were
unusually bony across the brows, while his blunt, step-ladder nose
looked as if it had been broken and rebroken many times, and his ears
had been boxed so many times they scarce resembled ears anymore. The
newcomer was clearly not a man to be fooled with.
He also stank like an animal. His odor filled the room, but she was
used to being around animals from having spent her earliest years as a
slave, so that she really didn't mind that nearly so much as she might
have, had she been noble-born instead. It just made him that much more
imposing and disquieting to be around.
His face was hard and unflinching, and his eyes were openly appraising
of everything he saw as if he were already preparing for the battle.
She felt his eyes on her, sizing her up. Not that there was all that
much of her to be sized up, she being so small for her age.
"You want to give spurs to this chicken?" the newcomer ventured, with
an skeptical look that Si'Wren found somehow insulting.
"Aye," Ibi sighed with a studious nod of his haggard, hoary old head
and long, flowing white mane.
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