Leroy Neiman Beach at Cannes

dark and dusty crypt. "Sapient pearwood," he said. "Remarkable. Yes, I think we will have that. Please see to it, my dear - before they go beyond your power, perhaps?"
"Silence! Or-"
"Or what, Liessa?" said the old man (in this dim light there was something odd about the way he was slumped in the stone chair). "You killed me once already, remember?"My power will be quite sufficient," she said.
The indistinct figure appeared to nod, or at least to wobble. "So you keep assuring me," he said.
Liessa snorted, and strode out of the hall.
Her father did not bother to watch her go. One reason for this was, of course, that since he had been dead for three months his eyes were in any case not in the best of condition. The other was that as a wizard - even
She snorted and stood up, tossing back her hair scornfully. It was red, flecked with gold. Erect, Liessa Wyrmbidder was entirely a magnificent sight. She was also almost naked, except for a couple of mere scraps of the lightest chain mail and riding boots of iridescent dragonhide. In one boot was thrust a riding crop, unusual in that it was as long as a spear and tipped with tiny steel barbs.