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“They told you?” “I am a troubadour,” Renaldo reminded him. “Just seems fast is all,” Heden said, turning and looking at the townspeople. “I came straight here.” “A mile for a man is a yard for a tale,” the minstrel said.
He looked at the window. The glass artwork depicted a scene he recognized: Godwin the Vigilant, Saint of Cavall, fighting Saint Pallad the Black, Saint of Nikros. He knew the story. Godwin lost. The glass depicted their final battle. It was, Heden thought, a strange moment to commemorate, but then he often felt that way about the stories of saints.

