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Sample text
He had to be careful now, not make the slightest sound, or his quarry would hear him, despite the chatter of the stony river. The stag’s hearing was exceptional, even for one of its kind. No wonder it had been hunted so unsuccessfully for so long. He watched it pace through the trees ahead, a flicker of white amongst the winter-black trunks. The beast was a long way from home. This forest stretched the length of the Brindling Mountains from the an-Archen south to Astolar and they were well above the plains, almost to the snowline.
The bruises should have hurt, so much he couldn’t stand up straight, but he felt no pain. Maybe he had Alderan’s medicine to thank, or maybe he’d locked the pain in a box with the other memories. No matter. He wouldn’t think about it again. Getting out of the city was enough to worry about. Clumsily he managed to wind the damp towel around his waist and began to lather up his beard. When Gair returned to the other room, wearing a linen robe he’d found behind the door, Alderan was seated at the table next to a large tray covered with a napkin.
Exultation punched up from Alderan’s gut. There was hope yet. The Preceptor raised his steel-shod staff and struck the dais three times, measured as a heartbeat. Around the hall, the hierarchs stilled. Motes flared in the sunlight from the long windows. The sun had moved westwards; now the dais lay in shadow and the witness stand stood full in the glare. ’ Ansel’s voice was worn thin by the years, but still it had a snap to it. ‘One who stands accused,’ responded the prosecutor, warrant in his hands.