![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() More than anything else, Taren of Laxley dreamed of sailing aboard one of the great ships. Still, he longed for the freedom of climbing the ropes of the incoming vessels and standing atop their masts with the wind in his face. Had it been a year, perhaps two, since the old sail rigger had sold him to pay a gambling debt? The living quarters at the inn were far less comfortable than Saren’s hut on the edge of the docks, but the work wasn’t nearly as strenuous. He had lost track of time since he had come to this place. He didn’t dare move closer-he had been beaten more times than he cared to remember by the other, more powerfully built men with whom he shared the tiny sleeping quarters. The mortar between the bricks had crumbled and the fire was a good twenty feet away, providing him little warmth. Taren huddled beneath a tattered blanket as an icy wind blew through the cracks of the building. ![]()
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