![]() ![]() The others I had spent three hundred and two years acquiring. I saw the six brass mixed, of my schooling, and the Well-Keepress’ chain, of white gold set with fire gems. I saw the silver chain with white interwoven, that of Well Astria. I took my eighteen-strand chald in my palms and looked at it. I found the juncture, took the tiny key from its housing, and fitted the key in the lock. I put my hands to my chald, running the strands through my fingers. “It lessens their beauty, their usefulness, their humility. ![]() “Crells do not wear chalds,” Chayin said flatly. “Do not take my chald from me.” I faced him, my back against the laced tent flap, my hands clenched behind me. ![]()
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