Gods, my arms are sore. It's a dead hand against a living will. “Amaryllis,” by Carrie Vaughn. Magister Illyrio had sent him toguard her, or so Belwas claimed, and it was true that she needed guarding.
If you stay with me you will serveas one of my handmaids, she said as they set off. Soon his torches began t'fail, one by one, till finally there was naught but dark. Frantically she shoved all the books she could into her skirt and I grabbed up most of what she’d missed, but we were taking too long. “We have to travel light, and they’re too heavy,” Myko was telling her.
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