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Show XXIII "'Tis ne'er a crime to tell the truth." from Saint Ida on the Subject of Love "Well," said Dr'Anya dubiously, "'tis an idea, that." Janni and her mother were sitting at one end of a long table in the fortress-like building they'd noticed at the entrance into the valley: listening to Dr'Igor recount plans that he and his partner, Erica, had laid out for their defense against the Provincials. After the valley had been alerted about the possibility of two strangers-suspicious strangers, indeed!-discovering their camp in the HighTartars they took immediate cover. As soon as Janni and her mother were identified and the all-clear sounded abroad in the valley-a high-pitched series of whistles that even the most skilled zoologist among them would identify as a SaurianLynx during mating season-there issued from the shadows of groves and thickets, from behind rocks, and up from the long grass, a veritable regiment of women and men, dressed in yeofolk leather or in capeskin hauberks and light helmets, a few of them leading horses, all of them intent, it seemed, in getting back to work. And their work, it turned out, was practicing diligently in the martial arts-archery, fencing, jousting, and the like. The young Janni shook her head and looked at Dr'Igor sitting at his ease by the table. "But, worthy sir, fighting with sharpened dueling swords and lances? - 'tis a full bad idea," she said. " ' t i s . . . ' t is 207 |