"Yes, whatever Eragos smokes in that thing does smell quite..."
As soon as he saw Gola he froze. And he was out in the open. A dullard's mistake his brothers would have called it. Crossing from one area to the next he had left himself exposed, just standing there with the other two as he he'd never trained a day in his life in the art of the shadows.
He started to swear but he bit down on it, remembering a woman's presence. He spat instead, a long stream of the brown stuff between his boots. It made his skin hot but he tried to remind himself that it didn't matter much.
He'd had Gola once already. A flat drop they called it, when someone had absolutely no idea you were coming. You could stand behind them for minutes if you were good, sticking to them like a shadow until the moment was right. He had the flat drop on Gola and even put a ten inch blade right through him--and it hadn't mattered.
He touched the scales Eragos had given him. In order, making sure they were there. And then his hands dropped down, still staring directly at whatever Gola was. The dragon knight's fingers slowly began to wave near the hilts of his weapons, drumming the air slowly like one would the edge of a card table.