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." He knelt in front of Sturm
and scrubbed away the tears with his rough thumbs. "None
of that now, lad. Your mother will need all your strength to
make this journey. It will fall to you to be the Brightblade
man of the party, you know."
Wind sighed through the north corridor. The double
doors to the courtyard were open. A two-wheel cart waited
in the calf-deep snow. Lady Ilys, splendid in a cape of white
rabbit, was bidding farewell to her husband.
"May the gods go with you," Lord Brightblade said,
clasping her hands between his own. "You will always be
my lady."
Their cheeks touched. "And you, my lord," said Lady
Ilys.
The sniffling from the front of the cart was Mistress
Carin. Sturm and Soren halted before Lord Brighblade. The
sergeant saluted. The master of Brightblade Castle clapped
the guardsman on his ironclad shoulders.
"My best man-at-arms," he said. "Keep them safe,
Soren Vardis."
"Aye, my lord."
He faced his son. "Sturm, heed what your mother and
the sergeant tell you."
"Yes, sir." How he ached for just one embrace! But that
was not his father's way, not even at a time of parting.
Soren lifted him into the back of the cart, then mounted
his own horse
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