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.
Or a woman's. I guess I reckoned on it this time,
too.
"Who's this partner of yours?" I asked. "A lover?" She
tossed her head, and her short, dark hair swung and
bounced. "Dinn's a friend. Sometimes he acts like a
hotheaded fool, but I love him dearly. He comes from
people who have only one word for both loyalty and
honor. Hard enemies, these people, and good friends. My
father earned his friendship, and Dinn says that I inherited
it." Her voice dropped low. "On his soul and my father's
sword I swear that I'll deal honestly with you, Doune."
It was a powerful oath. I knew none like it to offer her.
She asked if I had a father; I told her I must have at one
time. A mother? Dead, I said. No sister or wife, she
supposed. I told her she supposed right, and none of the
women I knew had the kind of soul I'd care to swear an
oath on. She looked at me with a mocking, exaggerated
expression of pity.
"Well," I growled, "I don't expect they're swearing any
oaths on my soul either."
The kender whistled a rising note, like a question, to
catch Alyce's attention. When he had it, he hit his two fists
against each other, then clasped both hands together. Alyce
shrugged with the air of someone who has come to the
bottom of the coffer and expects to find nothing but dust
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