By Gordon R. Dickson
In the course of the Fourteen Worlds of humanity, no race is as feared and revered because the Dorsai. the last word warriors, they're recognized for his or her lethal rages, unbreakable honor, and fierce independence. No guy principles the Dorsai, yet their mastery of the artwork of warfare has made them the main helpful mercenaries within the recognized universe. Donal Graeme is Dorsai, taller and tougher than any traditional guy. yet he's diverse besides, with skills that maze even his fellow Dorsai. And as soon as he ventures out into the celebrities, the longer term seriously is not an analogous.
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Additional resources for Dorsai! (Childe Cycle, Book 1)
Good. ” “What made me say ‘Thirty-three’? I ain’t thirty-three. I’m fifteen. ’ It’s me saying it, all right. ” “Yeah,” I whispered. ” I realized I was breathing too hard. I pulled myself together. ” “Look,” he told me. “This head-shrinking business, as you called it a while back, isn’t what most people think. When I go with you into the world of your mind—or when you go yourself, for that matter—what we find isn’t so very different from the so-called real world. It seems so at first, because the patient comes out with all sorts of fantasies and irrationalities and weird experiences.
I just kept my arms over my face and head and lay there with my eyes closed. For some reason I stopped crying. I think people only cry when there’s a chance of getting help from somewhere. When nothing happened, I opened my eyes and shifted my forearms a little so I could see up. There was a man standing over me and he was a mile high. He had on faded dungarees and an old Eisenhower jacket with deep sweat-stains under the arms. His face was shaggy, like the guys who can’t grow what you could call a beard, but still don’t shave.
I might have the sight of a light in the night. Maybe the baby. Maybe the sight of the baby at night because of the light... There was night after night when I lay on that blanket, and a lot of nights I didn’t. Something was going on all the time in Lone’s house. Sometimes I slept in the daytime. I guess the only time everybody slept at once was when someone was sick, like me the first time I arrived there. It was always sort of dark in the room, the same night and day, the fire going, the two old bulbs hanging yellow by their wires from the battery.