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He was the same small, stooped old man Mariah remembered oh, so well, his facial features sharp and bony, his hairline receding. She knew him as Josiah Pierce. Now, though, she knew his name was Porter. |
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The grin he wore, as he shambled toward her through the coiling mist, was as huge and misshapen as a jack o'lantern's. It made her shiver inside as though she'd stepped into a spider's web. "You did it, my dear," he said in the hoarse voice she recalled from all the horrible nightmares. "You stopped the duel." He paused, as though for dramatic effect. "You, my daughter, have righted the grievous wrong." |
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She dared a glance at Thorn. Still kneeling beside Ainsley, he stared up at the old man as though the area had just been invaded by slimy three-headed aliens. Will stood there stroking his beard, appearing half poised to run. Clearly he was less than thrilled to see his grandfather. |
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"All right," she said to the old man. "Why don't you tell me what this was all about?" |
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"Certainly, Mariah. Come." He was so short that when he draped a hand on her shoulder, he almost seemed to hang there. Fortunately, he didn't put much weight on her. |
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She looked once more toward Thorn. He was tending to Ainsley, the man he had considered his friend. Mariah longed to stay, to comfort him for his losses caused by this manand the loss of this man. |
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But she had knowledge of her own to gain. And so, ignoring her pain, she went with Porter. Pierce. Whoever. |
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The mist near the Point seemed to dissipate as they passed, moving upriver along the Allegheny in the direction in which they walked. Their path took them along the shore that had been graded in an upward slope, then hollowed geometrically to protect the growing Lower Town. "What would you like to know, my dear?" asked the man she'd known as Pierce in a voice she could only interpret as triumphant. |
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"Everything!" she blurted. "What was this all about?" |
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His hand still hung on her shoulder, and its bony fingers |
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