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522 pages, Mass Market Paperback
First published January 1, 1988
'"Paks, you–" Stammel cleared his throat. "You shouldn't be in this.[...] You don't belong." His voice gather firmness as he went on. "By Tir, I can't stand by and see you fall apart. Not for this. You've served the Duke as well as anyone could. D'you think he doesn't know it? Or I? [...] You don't belong here, in this kind of fighting. That Marshal was right; even the Duke said you might be meant for better things." He stopped again, and his voice was calmer when he resumed. "I think you should leave, Paks."'
Paks tried to control her excitement, but she could not think of anything but her oldest dreams. Paladin. It meant shining armor, and magic swords, and marvelous horses that appeared from nowhere on the day of the Trials. It meant old songs of great battles, bright pictures in her mind like that of the paladin under the walls of Sibili, all brightness and grace and courage. Another picture moved in her mind, herself on a shining horse, riding up the lane from Three Firs to her father’s farm, with children laughing and cheering alongside. Her mother smiled and wept; her brothers gaped; her father, astonished, finally admitted he had been wrong, and asked her pardon.