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Her eyes finally locked with his ‘Yes’ A ht’

‘I know’

‘Buruk the Pale Seren Pedac Hull Beddict’

Udinaas smiled, but the smile held no humour ‘If you will, at whose feet shall the tiles be cast, Feather Witch?’

‘A her own softening towards hihtened ‘I will stand over there Waiting’

‘You do intend to cast the tiles tonight, don’t you?’

She admitted it with a terse nod, then walked to the corner of the longhouse front, to the very edge of the thickening rain

Udinaas resuht back to his oords earlier Fallen Who tracks our footsteps, I wonder? We who are the forgotten, the discounted and the ignored When the path is failure, it is never willingly taken The fallen Why does my heart weep for the them Slaves, serfs, nameless peasants and labourers, the blurred faces in the crowd – just a ses of history

Can one stop, can one turn and force one’s eyes to pierce the gloom? And see the fallen? Can one ever see the fallen? And if so, what emotion is born in thatdown onto his chafed hands He knew the answer to that question, knife-sharp and driven deep, and the ansas… recognition

Hull Beddict moved to stand beside Seren Pedac as Mayen walked away Behind theue, harsh and fast words, taut with disbelief Rain hissed in the cookfires

‘She should not have done that,’ Hull said

‘No,’ Seren agreed, ‘she should not have Still, I am not quite certain what has just happened They were just words, after all Weren’t they?’

‘She didn’t proclaiuests, Seren She blessed their arrival’