She waved back and called something in return. ” The faintly petulant voice of a little girl. Caprichoso had been left behind, his lead trailing on the beaten grass. Blaine knew .
She thought of his blood—of how old it must be, and how cold it must sometimes flow. It fell to his back, the rawhide tugstring pulling against the line of his throat. He gave the question the weighty consideration it deserved, then put his arm around his surprised brother’s shoulders. The blade had been treated with an especially potent poison, something from a distant Mid-World Kingdom called Garlan.
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