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. "And
this, Master, is Sturm, Angriff's son, of the house of
Brightblade."
A thin, gurgling sound emanated from the platform.
"So? Come closer, young fellow, that I may see you better."
Sturm cast a glance back at his mother for guidance.
Artavash didn't wait; she put a hand to his back and steered
him up the wooden steps. When the shade of the gilded
canopy fell across his face, he saw the man known as the
Lord of the Sea.
He was tall, and so thin his back bowed under the
weight of his large head. The black robe he wore hung
loosely from his shoulders. Long, smooth fingers were
clasped together at the Sea Lord's waist. And his face -
Sturm would long remember that face! Two black eyes
glittered on either side of a sharp nose. The skin of his
beardless face was gray and dry as autumn leaves . . .
strange that his hands, though bony, were pink and
unwrinkled. The Lord of the Sea had only a few wisps of
black hair clinging to his globular skull.
"My name is Mukhari Ras," he said. His voice was like
a creaking door. "I am so pleased to meet you." He
extended a hand to the boy. Sturm took it uncertainly. It was
dry and hot, almost feverish.
"Have I done well?" asked Artavash
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