My lute hit the cobblestones bowl first and made a splintering noise. The sound reminded me of the terrible noise my father’s lute had made, crushed beneath my body in a soot-streaked alley in Tarbean. I bent to pick it up and it made a noise like a wounded animal. Ambrose half-turned to look back at me and I saw flickers of amusement play across his face. I opened my mouth to howl, to cry, to curse him. But something other tore from my throat, a word I did not know and could not remember. Then all I could hear was the sound of the wind. It roared into the courtyard like a sudden storm. A
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