Shadowmagic. John Lenahan
was close enough that I could see that he was short, but not slight. He was built like a brick outhouse–not fat, just a solid body with a head sitting directly on the shoulders. I got the impression that if I ran at him with all of my might I would just bounce off. Maybe that’s where they got the word bouncer from–‘cause that’s exactly what he looked like. If you got rid of the leather toga he was wearing and put him in a tuxedo, you could imagine him standing in the doorway of any night club. He was walking directly towards us.
I stood and said, ‘Hi.’
He didn’t even notice me. In his hand he held a thick wooden stick with a gnarled top and seemed to be heading for Fergal. ‘Ah, excuse me,’ I said, trying to be polite, ‘can I help?’
He walked straight at Fergal and raised his stick. I drew my sword and covered the ground between us. That got his attention at least.
‘If you are looking for your neck, I can assure you we don’t have it.’
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