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.
"What do you want?"
"Would you help me?"
She yawned and kicked off her sandals. "Don't be silly,
boy."
"All you need do is untie me. Then I'll get Soren, and
together we'll take my mother and Mistress Carin - "
"You're not going anywhere. Mukhari Ras has decreed
your fate." Artavash sat on her high couch and leaned back
against the wall. She laid the naked blade of a shortsword
across her lap.
"How can you serve a man like him? H-he is a monster
who kills children!" said Sturm.
"Children die every day," she said flatly. And with that,
young Sturm saw Artavash for what she was: a heartless
mercenary. Her only loyalty was to her paymaster.
She drained another cupful of wine, the last of many
that evening. "Now, go to sleep." Artavash slumped over a
pile of pillows. Her hand went slack, and the clay cup rolled
out of it.
Sturm waited until her breathing was soft and regular
before he tried to shift the chair. The stout seat bumped
loudly on the bare stone floor. Sturm froze. Artavash
snorted and buried her face deeper in the satin cushions.
He gazed longingly at the sword Artavash had drawn,
now lying point out on the couch. If he could only reach it!
He strained against the sashes, but the silken knots only
tightened further
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