Trodger might not need his hair dressed, but the flagon of ale that each soldier quaffed would be welcome—once his captain had departed, thought Roding cynically. It was obvious that he had waited for her. She pushed at the closer of the two soldiers bearing the precious burden. ’ ‘Who were they?’ she asked abruptly. It was her foster brother Mike, on his way to the bathroom. " This she did carefully, but inwardly commenting that he was still in the realm of strange fancies.
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