Bast gave an emphatic nod. “Exactly. That’s why I came to talk to you. Because I know best. You need to keep him from focusing on the dark things. If not . . .” Bast shrugged and repeated the motion of crumpling and throwing away a piece of paper. “But I’m collecting the story of his life. The real story.” Chronicler made a helpless gesture. “Without the dark parts it’s just some silly f—” Chronicler froze halfway through the word, eyes darting nervously to the side. Bast grinned like a child catching a priest midcurse. “Go on,” he urged. His eyes were delighted, and hard, and terrible. “Say
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