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. "Or should I say, your brother's armor.
What's the matter? Ashamed of being thought a knight?"
"I am not!" Nikol retorted. "I would wear this armor
with more pride than ever, but in the lands where we're
planning to travel, the people don't use metal armor.
They've never seen anything like it, in fact, and may be
frightened."
"You are going to join up with the Plainsmen," Astinus
said. He put his pen to paper, began to write. "Some of the
few who still believe in the true gods. But, eventually, even
their faith will weaken and dimmish and die. Still, your
mother will be glad to see you, Cleric."
Nikol stared. "His mother! How did you know - We
never told anyone - "
Astinus made an impatient gesture. "If that is all the
business you have with me, Malachai will see you out."
Michael and Nikol exchanged glances. "He's not even
going to say thank you," Nikol whispered.
"For what?" Astinus growled.
Nikol only smiled, shook her head. Malachai waited for
them at the door. The two turned to leave.
"Cleric," said Astinus, without pausing in his work.
"Yes, Master?"
"Keep searching."
"Yes, Master," said Michael, taking hold of Nikol's
hand. "We will."
AFTERWORD
Michael, cleric of Mishakal, and Nikol, daughter of a
knight, left the city of Palanthas, never to return. They
traveled south into the plains of Abanasinia. Here they
joined a tribe of the nomadic Plainsmen.
A child of a child of a child of a child of Michael and
Nikol would come to be called Wanderer - a man whose
ancestors, so it was said, never lost faith in the true gods
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