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and Brother Lyre held on to his master’s robes to steady
himself in the rain.
‘Brother Cuthbert, where do we hide?’ panicked Lyre.
‘Wren?’ panicked Cuthbert. ‘In Tÿrn we have the
fortress of King Tollbierd, where we all take shelter for the
night in the mountains. I see nothing like that here?’
‘No,’ explained Wren, looking out into the shitcoloured
Skitabaer. ‘They keep in their homes at night.
Only Dawnbroods come as far as Skitabaer. None of them
are old enough yet to enter a home without invitation,’ said
Wren.
‘Do you have somewhere we can stay? A home, a
shack?’
‘A rat-infested cellar?’ whimpered Lyre as Wren
pulled open the cellar doors that lay beneath a small layer
of wet straw.
‘Get in,’ said Wren. ‘I’ll make sure you’re fed in the
morning. Whatever you do, whatever you hear, even if its
me, do not open this fucking door. Do you understand? If
one door to a building is penetrated, the whole fucking