He was talking and untying the leather thongs that bound it as he came through the door. ‘I don’t know why I didn’t think of this a long time ago, when my mother first told me who you were. I guess because it was given to me so long ago, and then my mother put it away for me. Here!’ The wrappings fell away from it and he flourished it aloft. Grinning widely, he suddenly reversed his grip on it, and proffered it to me, the hilt resting on his left forearm. He grinned at me, his eyes blazing with delight and anticipation. ‘Take it, FitzChivalry Farseer. Your father’s sword.’ A shiver ran over
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