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Holters? We probably wont be back much over summer. Its just for fun. Indarin stared at her, open mouthed. Finally he found words, and not what she expected.I suppose I asked for that. He chuckled to himself and sank back onto the low cot. For a moment he lay still again, but then he let out a long sigh. “I never wanted magic. I wanted to be like my brother and sister. A warrior. I only just managed to keep from being a Seer, you know. Much like you. I couldnt have stood that. At least, as Shaman, I still had a place amongst the Shistra-Phail. But now? What do I have? Jeren rested her head on Shans shoulder and her tears began to fall. She couldnt help herself. They fell on his clothes, on his skin, on the collar Ylandra had tied around his throat. Jeren reached out, her fingers trembling, and his step faltered to a stop. With a growl in the base of her throat, she tore it from him and hurled it away. Id hoped... She caught Dorias arm with hers, linking the two of them together like conspirators, and leading her slightly to one side. Jerryl and Pern are among the last of the line of Roh, and as such are very precious to me. You all are. But the two of them... She glanced back to see them hugging Leithen, small children, nothing more. “There are so few of you left and what will the future Scions of Jern do if anything happens to them? Doria, I hoped youd stay here and guard them for me. For the future, you see? I regret asking this of you, but there’s no one else I can trust. Not in this. Not so well as you.” According to Felan, a Shistra-Phail who lost his braids lost not just his honour but also his mind. He became, as the Fair Ones called them, one of the Lost. But her brother wouldnt command that, surely? He knew their ways, had lived with them. He couldnt allow it. He sags, disgusted with himselfIm sorry, he says. “Truly. Im at the end of my rope, here. Theres a lot riding on this for me. Professionally. Personally. I feel like it’s my last chance, I suppose, and you’re standing there brandishing a Holy Grail of stolen documents in front of me. But I can’t give you what I don’t have. My car’s a piece of shit but you can have that. I’ve got some books and albums and a guitar I could sell, or give you, if you like The Levellers and Otis Redding. And Serendipity might lend me something. But Christ, if I was you I would go and give them to somebody else. Maybe just go and hand them straight in at the nick. A know a lady. A good cop. Strategically scatter-brained and very fair. Give them to her and rest easy that you’ve done the right thing. Tell her you put the money in the church poor-box or something. I’ll pick up some journalistic work when it all comes out – whatever it is. And the police will do things properly - not blunder around in the dark .., Why, Gabriel? She closed the envelope and slid it into the back pocket of her combat pants, before anyone spied the smudged fingerprints adorning its surface. Rowan looks up, as he hears the girl mutter the correct answer to the Bond conundrum, slightly louder than the previous four times she has tried to get a word in. Youre also his heir, my lady, Maldrine interrupted. Perhaps you thought with Grey Holt at your back, youd fancy ruling River Holt yourself. The phone woke me, and I reached for it before it woke Gabriel.Hello. I felt Maxs eyes studying my face, the way he did when he had something he didnt want to tell me or when he was waiting for me to figure out something hed just told me and I’d missed it. He would never stop looking. When did you say he moved to Savannah? All characters and events in this publication, other than those clearly in the public domain, are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. Jeren wondered if Shan regretted saving her in the first place, plucking her out of the shattered carriage at the foot of the cliff and carrying her to safety through the snow. Had it been worth it? Or did he wish hed left her to the assassins pursuing her. It was a dark and ungrateful thought, but she couldnt help herself. Stress and constant demands made her irritable, short tempered, and often as not he bore the brunt. It seems to take an age for the final note to fade. It echoes off the walls of the underpass. The singer has almost crossed the short distance between us before the cadence disappears into the misty air. Hi, Mommy. Dale sat in the far corner of the booth,her sketchpad in his hands, idly flicking through the pages. This week, the fool had dyed his hair yellow, a spiked canary shock above the thick frames of his glasses. Lily believed that changing his hair colour each week would make him bald well before he hit thirty. Samara had no idea what he studied, if he even did. She knew he was in a band though. It was the first thing he told you in that drawn out voice of his, sounding stoned morning to night..