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’Aye, sir’

’Go on, then’

She hurried off

Well, damn me The lass buys a worthless piece of stone from a Gral swindler and suddenly she’s invisible Raw but pure talent, right in her bones, and she doesn’t even know it

Hidden beneath fronds and brush, Picker and her squad had a clear view of the Pannion legions, the front lines reaching the base of the treeless ramp that led to the entrench before the chanting Beklites The Seerdo now on foot ahead of their co upslope with an air of inexorability

On a bank high above the Pannions, Quick Ben looked down, exposed and alone Or so Blend had told her -- the trees on her left blocked the view

Suicide The wizard was good, she knew, but good only because he kept his head low and did whatever he did behind backs, in the shadows, unseen He wasn’t Tattersail, wasn’t Hairlock or Calot In all the years she had known him, she had not once seen him openly unveil a warren and let loose Not only wasn’t it his style, it also wasn’t, she suspected, within his capacity

You unsheathed the wrong weapon for this fight, High Fist

Sudden motion in the midst of the first Pannion square Screams Picker’s eyes widened Dee, towering, bestial, tearing through the massed ranks of soldiery Blood sprayed Lies wheeled

’Damn,’ Blend whispered at her side ’They’ve sed it’

Picker snapped a glare at the wo about?’

’They’re illusions, Lieutenant Can’t you tell?’

No

’It’s all that uncertainty -- they don’t knohat they’re facing Quick Ben’s playing on their fears’

’Blend! Wait! How in Hood’s name can you tell?’

’Not sure, but I can’