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When class was over, Rakiel stepped out from behind
the dragon-covered tapestry. He'd been observing. "What
do you think of them?" he asked.
"The usual," Moran answered shortly. "Too much
ambition, too much energy, not enough thought."
Rakiel chuckled. "And can you make them think?"
"Fear can." Moran looked out the window, saw Saliak
take an ill-advised swipe at the back of Tarli's head. Tarli
heard it coming - how, Moran couldn't imagine - and
ducked the blow. Saliak stumbled. Tarli, stepping aside, let
him fall. Saliak, without getting up, threw a well-aimed
stone, which struck Tarli in the shoulder.
Moran turned from the window. "This afternoon we
start with the first lance drill. That would scare anyone.
They'll think about what they're doing, from then on."
"Even that Tarli?" Rakiel shook his head. "Face it, he's
not fit to be here. He's a head shorter than any of them, and
he's making enemies already." He grimaced with distaste.
"Moreover, he plays jokes like a kender. Frankly, I don't
think some paltry lance drill will make him think."
" 'Some paltry drill'? Perhaps you should try it, then."
Rakiel glanced at the tapestry; his eyes lingered on the
lance points
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