A thick mass of people bordered the courtyard like another wall. He opened the capacious pocket into which he had stuffed everything except the banner and pulled out one of the white silk shirts. The nights were still cooler than he was used to this time of year, but blankets were enough for warmth now. All I needed was an excuse to leave, and this is it.
Death is lighter than a feather, duty heavier than a mountain. It was a Shienaran saying, and he knew it sounded pompous before it was out of his mouth, but her manner had infected him, and he could not stop it. They've been there since the Breaking, near enough. There was a storm coming.
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