No doubt he knew enough of his world to recognise that he stood little chance against the word of a major of militia. The tears flowed faster. His fingers cherished the hilt of his sword and his eyes were on his friend and superior, ready at his back to do whatever was needed. ’ ‘Lucky indeed,’ answered Gerald, glancing at the pair again. Hanging on the wall was a temple censer, bronze, moulded in the shape of a lotus blossom with stem and leaves—deadly as a club.
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