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. As if I had no idea that men die, boys die,
from the ambushes that had followed us for a week. Breca,
among others, began to claim that we guided our march by
ambush - that when we were waylaid, again the knights
were assured that we headed in the right direction.
For draconians, Bayard, do not fight in the lists. The
Dragon Highlords may show elegance, breeding, but the
war has nothing to do with the Measure, with a stately
dance of challenge and courtesy. Often a footman would
drop at the rear of the column, a barbed black arrow
sprouting in his back, a chorus of catcalls and sometimes
hisses from the woods nearby. Indeed they have no love of
the cold; their blood thickens and their movements slow.
But there are humans among them, and even the draconians
can survive such weather, wrapped in furs they do not
bother to cure or tan, and they know we have no love of the
cold either.
Two days from the tower they struck a final ambush, a
flurry of arrows from a stand of vallen-woods, falling
harmlessly short. We could see them through the mist and
the snow and the bare branches, some recognizably human,
all moving like spectres or shadows. A few of our archers
returned fire, their arrows falling short, too, which was what
the dragon-armies wanted, their own supplies virtually
endless
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