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Page 411
Chapter Twenty-Two
A single horseman rode across the plain from the wells near Tell al'Ayadiyya under the starlit sky. The watch-men on the walls paid him no mind. Now and again starlight glinted on his steel-clad arms and even in the dark the stained white tabard with its red cross could be distinguished. At the postern near the gate, the horseman dismounted and drew his sword. He used the hilt to pound upon the door.
"The gate is closed," the guard snarled through the wicket. "None may enter until morning."
"I am Sir Simon Lemagne. Open. Now. Or you will break your fast on your own lights and liver."
Guardsmen do not quarrel with the close companion of the King. The postern opened. The knight led his horse through, remounted, and clattered up the street toward the palace. In the stable he kicked a horseboy awake, dropped his reins into the boy's hands, and stalked off. His gait was stiff, like that of a man too long in the saddle or holding himself upright and still with conscious effort. The palace guards, Alinor's men, knew him well and passed him without challenge. Inside, the hard sense of purpose seemed to falter. Simon stood irresoluate, as if the dark and silence had brought a realization for the first time of how late the hour was.
He started off again, but uncertainly, as if he had forgotten the way. Then along the corridor came soft hurrying footsteps. Simon stopped and, in a moment, a stripling page ran right into him and bounced off.

 
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