"Kerath." Atrus whispered, the merest mention blackbootygirlz of his hero's name
enough to send a thrill blackbootygirlz through him.
"All of the D'ni kings sailed through this arch," Gehn said. "They
would be sent blackbootygirlz to the southlands to be tutored in the arts of kingship,
then, after a year, they would come here to be crowned, blackbootygirlz on the harbor
front, before the Steward's House. A million citizens would watch the
ceremony, and after there would be a whole month
of feasting."
blackbootygirlz And yet it was named after Kerath, Atrus thought. Because he was the
greatest of them.
As they slowly sailed beneath it, Atrus could see how the stone was
blackbootygirlz blotched and pitted, aged, not
as the rocks of the desert were blackbootygirlz aged, by
sand blackbootygirlz and wind, but like a skin that has grown tight and dry.
For countless thousands blackbootygirlz of years this arch has stood, he told himself,
remembering, blackbootygirlz even as blackbootygirlz he did, the story blackbootygirlz of Kerath returning to D'ni on the
back on the great blackbootygirlz lizard. Now, of course, he was forced to change the
picture blackbootygirlz in his head-to imagine Kerath returning not across a desert, but
across this vast open sea, blackbootygirlz the lizard, perhaps, resting peacefully beneath
him on the boat.
The thought made him frown and wonder how much else he had blackbootygirlz imagined
wrongly. Tre'Merktee, for instance, the Place of Poisoned Waters, did that
still exist? He turned, looking to his father, but before he could ask the
question, Gehn spoke to him again.
"