“Vaos’s voice penetrates the smithy. He turns the tongs to ensure an even heating of the metal. “Yes?” “Liedral’s back.” “I’m coming.” “I’ll tell her, ser.” “No, you won’t. You clean up the smithy.” Dorrin sets the tongs on the fire bricks, ignoring the clatter, runs to the front of the smithy, then walks into the fall coolness. “But…” Vaos’s protest is lost as Dorrin leaves. “You do look like a smith.” Liedral stands by the cart, grinning. He steps forward to tak...e her hand, wishing he could hold her. She hugs him, but she steps back. “I’m better, and I’m learning.” They stand, looking at each other. “You have a few more muscles, I think,” she finally says. “Ser…”MoreLessRead More Read Less
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