th her round white creased face whiter than the pil-low and her watercreased hands in a knot under her chin. Shouting vigorously, they started charging toward theimpaled fruit pieces. After a while Doc Bingham appeared in the door, a broad smile creasing his cheeks. He was soon standing in a well-lit antechamber just off the hall’s dais.
They hurried to the bedside. “We train where I say andwhen I say. “We are the equivalent of one day’s ride northwest, along the Sippora’s banks,” Xanthusanswered. The enveloper finally releasedits grip.
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