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. His hand closed in a fist around Rakiel's
letters. It was hard, not killing a man for a debt of honor,
but this way might be better.
"I'll write your recommendation myself. The clerics
owe me a large favor. You'll get in, sight unseen." He
pictured, briefly, Tarli in a classroom of fledgling clerics.
This was better than murdering Rakiel in uneven combat.
"Thank you." Tarli was genuinely surprised and
pleased. "Mother always said you would be good to me."
"Ah. And what will you do as a cleric?"
Tarli's eyes looked far away and dreamy. "I'll go to my
mother's people. Something tells me they'll need clerics in
the future."
He swung the stick at his side. "And I'll take them this
weapon I've designed. It's a great thing for short people in a
fight. I need a name for it." He spun the stick over his head.
"Isn't that a wonderful sound? Hoop," he said happily.
"Hoop."
Moran scribbled a quick note. "Take this to the clerics
and wait. I'll be sending ... some other items ... on to the
Knights of the Rose." After a brief moral struggle, he
added, "I hope the church will open many doors for you."
"If it doesn't, I'll open them myself." Tarli stuffed the
note in his duffel, which by now was bulging ominously
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