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“You wish to run before you can stand up straight,” Gesha said firmly. “You do not travel any Path by skipping steps.”
Well, as I was saying: Fisher Gesha, I must borrow your pupil for an hour or six. I’ll return him to you in one or more pieces.”
“There’s an old saying about asking forgiveness rather than permission,” Eithan said, “but the essence of it is, ‘I’m going to do what I want.’”
“I’m not ‘polishing’ anything. The heavens opened up and showed me visions of all the greatest people on the planet, people who can wrestle dragons and strike down armies. Then they brought me to you. You’re all so far above me you might as well be stars.”
There was only one Highgold in the Blackflame Empire who could fight with him face-to-face, and she was carrying their child into a shelter.
She was exhausted in body, mind, and spirit, and saying goodbye to the Sword Sage a second time struck her like a physical wound. His absence tore through her. And there on the mountain, she wept again for her master’s death.
As the Jai Patriarch staggered, the Arelius bent over, breathing heavily, scooping up his broom. “Close one,” he said, between ragged breaths. He straightened with a tailor’s scissors in one hand and a janitor’s broom in the other, standing over the lord of a warrior clan whose spear had failed.
“Teaching someone the Path is not illegal.” “Neither is hanging yourself, but that doesn’t make it wise.