A fine thing if he took an assassin's blade while one of the sisters tried to decide whether serving meant saving him or obeying meant not channeling. That was her real name, though she did not know he knew. You know about them, now! The Wise Women gaped at her as though she had suggested spitting in the Queen's face. Now and then he heard other wolves, that had not come, speak with scorn to those that had: This was what came of mixing with the two-legs.
And hoping there's a haywain at the bottom to land in. He hoped not. He shrugged, touching the bloodstained hole in his coat ab-sentmindedly. Again, that reverential tone.
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