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... on rope, on broom, on harp string. Some leaned against balustrades of braided vine, half-lit by lanterns, pupils glowing faintly in the luminosity. Their expressions varied: wonder from a few, trepidation from most, outright suspicion from a hardened handful wearing bark-plate armor at the shoulder.

But something else lived behind those gazes—hope, maybe? She couldn't parse it. They didn't speak, yet every tilt of chin, every tightening of a hand on a railing, seemed to ask the same que ...

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