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*****
Michael saw her fall. He started toward the door, to her.
A hand clapped over his shoulder.
The touch chilled him to the very marrow of his bones,
drove him to his knees. Looking up into fiery eyes, Michael
stifled a gasp of pain, knowing that the touch, if the knight
had wanted, could have killed him.
"The book will remain here forever - for all to, read?"
Lord Soth asked.
"Yes, my lord," Michael answered.
Soth nodded slowly. It had not been a question, so
much as a reaffirmation. "I cannot be saved, but perhaps
my story can save someone else."
The flame-eyes seemed to burn clear for a moment in
what might have been a smile. "Ironic, isn't it,' Cleric? Two
false knights defending the truth." He let go his hold,
turned, and walked out the library doors.
*****
The mob surged forward. Men came at Nikol with clubs
raised. She struck out at the leader, had the pleasure of
seeing him fall back with a cry, clapping his hand over a
broken, bleeding arm. For a moment, the rest held back,
daunted, fearful of the gleaming steel. Then someone threw
another rock. It struck Nikol on her hand, knocked the
sword from her grasp.
The mob gave an exultant shout, rushed at her. She tried
to reach her weapon, beating those nearest her back with
fists and feet, kicking and gouging, knowing all the time she
must fall.
She heard Michael shout her name, turned her head,
tried to find him, then she was hit from behind
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