“Yet those sailors still remain who they are, lost limbs or not.” Vivacia continued implacably. “You are not a finger, Wintrow. You’re a man. You cut your hair, your nails, and you are still Wintrow and a man. And if you are a priest, then you will remain one, nine fingers or ten. If you must lose a finger, then you must lose a finger. But do not use it as an excuse to stop being yourself.” She paused, almost savoring the boy’s astonished silence. “I know little of your Sa, Wintrow. But I know much of the Vestrits. What you are born to be, you will be, whether it be priest or sailor. So step
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