Attila Bertók

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‘Will they fight?’ She stepped close, her eyes cold as ice. ‘You don’t ask that kind of question, Pores. Not another word. Am I understood?’ ‘Aye, Fist. I just don’t want to be the only one unsheathing my sword, that’s all.’ ‘You’re in no condition for that.’ ‘That detail hardly matters, Fist.’
The Crippled God (Malazan Book of the Fallen, #10)
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