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"What about Sergeant Soren?" he said.
"He will come ashore with the other rowers," said
Radiz.
Sturm appealed to Artavash. "He must come with us,"
he said. She seemed willing to accommodate the boy's
wishes, so she sent for the sergeant. Soren was half-carried
from the hold and dumped on the ramp by Kernaffi sailors.
"You see, my lady, how four days with an oar tames
the boldest warrior," Radiz said. Artavash laughed all the
way down to the barge.
Sturm helped his friend stand. "Are you well, Soren?"
he said.
"Well enough, my lord." His quilted tunic was in tat ters,
and red welts streaked his back. The rowing master had not
spared Soren the whip. The guardsman's hands were also
raw from gripping the heavy oar.
The barge glided in to the pier. An honor guard awaited
them. Brass horns blared as Artavash led the group up some
steps to the street. A parade formed:
the warrior woman leading Sturm by the hand, followed
by a grim Lady Ilys and Carin. Soren, Radiz, and the
Kernaffi guard brought up the rear. Fifes shrilled and drums
rumbled as they began to march.
The streets of the city were as empty as the harbor. A
few people peered out their windows, and some curious
loafers filled open doorways
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