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. "The book."
"Oh. Right." Tarli handed it over. "I'd like to read
it."
They could hear his dragged duffel bump behind
him all the way down the stairs.
Rakiel stared at Moran in amazement and disgust.
"Surely you're not admitting him?"
"He admitted himself."
Rakiel laughed, a nasty noise. "Are the knights as
desperate as all that?"
Moran was looking down the stairs. "The knights
choose first for honor, and second for noble family." It
hadn't always been true.
"But you don't even know his father." The cleric's lip
curled. "HE may not even know his father."
"Then I'll judge the boy and not his family."
Rakiel sniffed. "It's insupportable. He's not only
common, he's probably a bastard."
"Not nearly as much as a cleric I could name," Moran
muttered, well beneath his breath.
Rakiel was ranting on. "And so short. He hardly looks
human. Do you suppose he's ..."
Moran, staring out the window, said absently, "Loraine
was very short."
*****
IT WAS THE HOTTEST SUMMER ANYONE COULD
REMEMBER. ALL THE TRAVELERS WHO HAD TARPS
PUT THEM UP AND WERE LYING UNDER THEM. THE
OTHERS TRUDGED AS FAR AS THE CITY WALLS AND
LAY IN THE NARROW MIDDAY SHADOWS
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