“You greeted the Kiemhrir as if you knew of them,” Rocannon observed, and the Fian answered: “What one of us in my village remembered, all remembered, Olhor. So many tales and whispers and lies and truths are known to us, and who knows how old some are.…” “Yet you knew nothing of the Winged Ones?” It looked as if Kyo would pass this one, but at last he said, “The Fiia have no memory for fear, Olhor. How should we? We chose. Night and caves and swords of metal we left to the Clayfolk, when our way parted from theirs, and we chose the green valleys, the sunlight, the bowl of wood. And therefore
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