Pronunciation: Prasto

Hair Color: Red-gold

Eye Color: Grey

Motto: Nothing better than a stout horse and woman beneath you

Desires: To bed a beautiful woman before the end

Weapon of Choice: Wits

Description: “Truly?” His brows rose in an expectant arch and only gradually sank in resignation. He shook his head and brushed back the red-gold tangle that fell over his face. “Ah, just as well for you. My family’s shit for luck . . . I’m Prasto of Ceretes.” He clapped his lean, solid hand on my back and smiled. “Welcome to hell.”

Discussion Questions For Prasto?


  • What do you think of Prasto’s humor?
  • Do you have a favorite scene?
  • What your best-loved quote?
  • Would Leures have died in the mines without Prasto?
  • Did you enjoy his interactions with Leures?

The one great thing I had yet was my friendship with Prasto. Even in the mine’s sweltering darkness, he could make me laugh. “How did you know so many women?” I asked, tossing a hunk of ore into the basket between us while he tapped away with his hammer and chisel. “Determination and a good bit of charm.” I could hear his smile. “And sometimes, a coin or two.” It was the beginning of our day’s work, and we both had enough energy for banter. “Even still, I don’t think you’ve talked about the same one twice,” I said. “Where did you find the time?” “When I was your age it didn’t take much time.”



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