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. None of
that for footmen. Breca was honest, or pretended honesty in
a way that came closer to the truth than simple honesty,
which sometimes allows for dishonest imaginings.
I EXPECT, he said, THAT A CENTAUR DESIGNED
THIS TOWER. I EXPECT HE DONE SO AFTER A
CELEBRATION OF VICTORY, ON ACCOUNT OF THE
BUILDING SPEAKS MORE OF WINE THAN OF
TACTICS. I COUNT FOUR GATES IN THE FORTRESS,
WHICH IS THREE MORE THAN YOU NEED, FOUR
MORE THAN I'D FANCY NOW THAT WE'VE GOT
INSIDE.
AND WHAT IS WORSE THAN FOUR GATES I WILL
TELL YOU IS FOUR WIDE GATES, GATES WHERE A
HALF A DOZEN CENTAURS MIGHT GALLOP IN
ABREAST. THE DRAGONARMIES DON'T MIND
SPENDING MEN, AND EVEN SEEM TO FAVOR
SPENDING DRACONIANS, SEEING AS THEY HAVE SO
MANY OF THEM. WHAT IS MORE, THEY'RE LIABLE TO
SEND DRAGONS OR SOME TERRIBLE MACHINERY
RIGHT THROUGH OUR DOORS. And he sat back, the
smoke curling like snow or a morning fog, like the mist
from the horses, around his enormous, ragged head. The
footmen waited, not for the quick and easy answer, the
inspiring speech that would tell them that despite all these
things, we would win by tactics and by bravery, that one
man in the service of Solamnia could defeat a dozen
draconians. They awaited his judgment on the walls
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