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.
He walked over to her, held the light to shine upon her.
"Why, it is but a beardless youth, yet one who wields a
sword with a man's skill, it seems," he added, looking at a
companion who was wiping blood from a cut cheek.
Frowning, he studied the sword in Nikol's hand. The lord
knight's face hardened. "How did you come by such a
weapon and this armor that belongs to a Knight of the
Crown? Stolen from the body of a gallant knight, no doubt.
If you thought to sell it to us for your own gain, you have
made a mistake that will prove costly. You will end up
paying - with your life!"
"I did not steal it! I carry it by - " Nikol paused. She had
started to say she carried it by right, but the thought
occurred to her that she did not have the right to bear the
arms of a true knight. Flushing, she amended her words.
"My father is Sir David of Whitsund, now deceased. My
twin brother, Nicholas, who is also dead, was a Knight of
the Crown. This sword is his, as is the armor. I took them
from his body - "
"And she put them on and cut her hair and bravely
defended the castle and those of us within it," struck in
Michael.
"And who are you?" The lord knight glowered at
Michael.
"Perhaps that false cleric from Palanthas, my lord," said
a knight. "See, he wears the holy symbol of Mishakal."
The lord knight barely spared Michael a glance, turned
to stare at Nikol.
"SHE?" the lord knight repeated. He stepped forward,
scrutinized Nikol's features, then fell back, his gaze
traveling swiftly over her body
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