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.
The steel armor alone would be worth a fortune, but it
was terribly heavy, and Matya was not entirely certain she
would be able to remove it. However, the knight wore a
leather purse at his belt, and that boded well for Matya's
fortunes. Deftly, she undid the strings, peered inside, and
gasped in wonder.
A woman's face gazed out of the purse at her. The tiny
face was so lifelike that, for a moment, Matya almost
fancied it was real - a small, perfect maiden hidden within
the pouch.
"Why, it's a doll," she realized after a heartbeat had
passed.
The doll was exquisitely made, fashioned of delicate
bone-white porcelain. The young maiden's eyes were two
glowing sapphires, and her cheeks and lips were touched
with a blush of pink. It was a treasure fit for a lord's house,
and Matya's eyes glimmered like gems themselves as she
reached to lift it from the purse.
A hand gripped her arm, halting her. Matya froze, biting
her lip to stifle a scream. It was the dead man. His fingers,
sticky with dried blood, dug into the flesh of her arm, and
he gazed at her with pale, fey eyes.
The knight was very much alive.
*****
"Tambor . . ." the knight whispered. He lay slumped
against the wheel of Matya's wagon, his eyes shut. "She
sings . . . Tambor . . ." His mumbling faded, and he drifted
deeper into a feverish sleep.
Matya sat near the small fire, sipping a cup of rose hip
tea and watching the knight carefully. Twilight had
descended on the grove of aspen trees where she had made
camp, transforming all the colors of the world to muted
shades of gray
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