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."
"Which one was Loriel?" There'd been a lot of them. After Rian
had sung, the young women had walked around the Inn with their
heads high, thinking noble thoughts, to Otik's vast amusement.
One young man, a red-haired, spindly local with wide eyes, sat in
the corner afterward determinedly mouthing lyrics to himself. His
friends had seemed afraid he might sing.
Tika scrubbed fiercely at one of the barrels, tipping it. Otik
steadied it for her as she said casually, "Loriel? Oh, you know.
Turned-up nose, too many freckles, shows her teeth when she
laughs-it's a shame they're not straight-and she's the one with
all that hair, you know, the yellow stuff?"
"Oh, is she the one with all that pretty blonde hair?" She was
around a lot lately. She laughed too often for Otik's taste, but the
boys her age seemed to like it. She also had a habit of spinning
away from people so that her hair flew straight out and settled
back. Otik had twice caught Tika practicing it.
"Do you think it's pretty, then?" Tika tried to look surprised.
"That's nice. Poor thing, she'd be pleased." Scrub, scrub.
She began to daub her eyes. "Oh, Otik! He liked HER and not
me."
"There now." Otik put an arm around her, thinking (not for the
first time) that if he'd only found a wife, there'd be someone more
sensitive to help the poor girl. He barely knew Tika's friends.
"There, now. It's not like he's your own true love, just an older lad
with a good voice
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