Scot Glasgow

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the Sitha had calmly deflected all of Simon’s questions as to what magic might run like blood through Camaris’ strange sword. Simon’s chilled fingers crept up his jaw to the still-painful scar running down his face. How had a mere scullion like himself ever dared to lift such a potent thing?
The Stone of Farewell (Memory, Sorrow, and Thorn, #2)
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