Khil, Les, and Max, Aristan Foundlings, age 11, walked side-by-side in the marketplace, their steps matching so perfectly one would never think that just a few months before, the physicians had said Khil'd never walk straight again. Even the livid-but-not-fresh scars on their right arms matched
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"Oh, we're fine, thank you," Les says politely.
"If there were anything that was really worth doing," Max adds.
"We'd do it ourselves," Khil finishes, still frowning but the tension fading from his shoulders at the touch.
Funny guy kind of freezes for a moment, there, and the boys find his expression highly satisfying. But he manages to pull himself together and, well, now that his pride is wounded.... He looks at Val, tries to work up some snootiness again, spots the weird taste in jewelry, and asks... "Aren't you a little old for an amulet?" It only starts occur to him once he's said it that he really considers the implications of mouthing off to a an adult with that insignia...and his eyes start to show it again.
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"Oh, it isn't an amulet. Just a reminder that if I get out of hand, I'll answer to the Guards."
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The scarred-handed trio look up at Val, grinning. "The look on his face." Foundling Surround Sound again.
"That was the best not-threatening-someone ever, 'cept when the General or Her Majesty does it," Khil comments.
"He might actually stay gone this time," Les adds.
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