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<blockquote data-quote="Lazybones" data-source="post: 7403239" data-attributes="member: 143"><p>Chapter 151</p><p></p><p>Kosk paused to catch his breath as the steep trail reached another switchback, curving back in on itself as part of the long ascent up the mountainside. It looked like he still had quite a way left to go. He should have been able to make the climb easily, but he’d let himself go somewhat since their arrival here in Severon, and now he was paying the price.</p><p></p><p>He adjusted his bracers, reflexively checking the knives tucked into them. So be it. He was no stranger to paying the price for mistakes he’d made.</p><p></p><p>As he turned back to the next stage of the trail he paused to glance back at the city. He’d already climbed high enough to give him an exceptional view. Severon was sprawled out across the landscape before him. The distinctive buildings of the ruling district were instantly obvious. Kosk could see the Apernium, the Royal Palace, the Great Library, and the other monumental structures that served as testament to the ingenuity and ambition of man. For a moment the dwarf’s thoughts flashed back to Underhold, but he quickly squashed that impulse and resumed his trek up the path.</p><p></p><p>He soon came to yet another set of stone steps. They were ancient, worn smooth by weather and the tread of countless feet. They were sized for humans, and Kosk found himself annoyed as each one extracted a bit more exertion than was necessary. He wondered how they got supplies up here; he hadn’t seen any markings or droppings that would suggest the use of mules or other draft animals. The monks probably had their acolytes lug packs laden with ten stone of grain up the hill as a way of building their bodies and focusing their ki. There had been plenty of that kind of business back at the monastery in Crosspath. He had not been an easy student, and for a moment a smile crept across his face at the memory.</p><p></p><p>He was pulled from his reveries as he reached the top of the steps and a gust of chill wind swept over him. He looked up and realized that his destination had come into view. The Monastery of the Quiet Path was not quite at the crest of the peak, instead nestled into a broad gap that would shelter it from the worst of the wind. A stone wall warded the mouth of that opening, but he could see the peaked wooden roofs of the interior buildings rising behind it. The largest of those had to be the Great Hall, the curving eaves supporting a tall roof that culminated in a small turret. That pinnacle likely held the bell that would chime the periods of the day and call the monks to service.</p><p></p><p>Warring impulses passed through the dwarf for a moment, but finally he lowered his head and resumed his journey. Another three sets of stairs connected by long stretches of path stood between him and his destination, but now that he’d made his decision the twinges in his legs and the angry tugs of the wind no longer troubled him.</p><p></p><p>As he drew close to the wall he could see that the front gate, a considerable construction of heavy wooden boards banded in iron, stood open. It was flanked by banners that were securely attached with iron rods at both top and bottom to the surrounding wall. They fluttered wildly in the wind, but Kosk could still recognize the standards of the orders they represented. Despite the sentiment offered by the name of the place, he saw his own order, the Open Hand, included in the tally.</p><p></p><p>There were no guards visible, and no one appeared to challenge him as he made his way through the open gates. The main yard was empty, but there was plenty of activity. The buildings were familiar, in type if not in their architecture, and he quickly identified the living quarters for the acolytes and full initiates, the dining hall, and the workshop. There were covered gardens and even a greenhouse, though they would still likely have to bring supplies along that long trek up the mountain. Over it all loomed the mass of the Great Hall, more imposing now that he could see it in its full majesty. The top of the bell tower had to be at least fifty feet above the packed earth of the yard. Broad stone steps led up to a pair of entrances that also stood open, letting in the air and light of the day.</p><p></p><p>Kosk headed in that direction. A few of the monks noticed him but offered only a brief look and a nod before returning to their labors. He passed a courtyard where a dozen monks were practicing a kata. The familiar movements were reassuring.</p><p></p><p>As he started up the steps that led up to the Great Hall a slender figure emerged from within to greet him. At first Kosk thought it was the young monk who had delivered the message to him back in the city, but as she stepped forward into the light he saw it was a woman, the first he’d seen at the monastery thus far. Her hair was trimmed close like the other monks, but she was still beautiful, her features soft and slightly exotic. As he reached her he was surprised to see that she was an elf, which explained her unusual appearance but not her presence here. A small emblem of a blooming rose was stitched into the fabric of her robe, a feature that evoked some vague memory that Kosk could not immediately place.</p><p></p><p>“Thank you for coming, Brother Stonefist,” she said. “I am Embrae. Abbot Anaeus is waiting for you in the Chamber of Contemplation.” She gestured for him to enter, and after a moment he did.</p><p></p><p>The interior of the hall was dominated by a tall central space that was only sparsely decorated. Thick wooden pillars rose to support the braces of the ceiling above. The floors were bare wood polished to a bright shine. A few iron braziers that were currently unlit flanked a shrine built into one wall. The sigils of the six orders were present there as well, surrounding an icon that Kosk knew represented the primal energy of life, of <em>ki</em>.</p><p></p><p>“Rather more humble than what you had in Crosspath, I believe,” Embrae said.</p><p></p><p>“You seem to know a lot about me,” Kosk replied.</p><p></p><p>“The Abbot has taken an interest in you,” Embrae said. “He has been engaged in a correspondence with the Abbess Laurine for a number of decades now. They are good friends, in fact.”</p><p></p><p>“One doesn’t see many elves in the orders,” Kosk said. “Must be a story behind that.”</p><p></p><p>“The same could be said for dwarves,” she said. “Perhaps we can exchange tales sometime.”</p><p></p><p>As she spoke the came to another door, the first closed one Kosk had seen since his arrival. The door was covered in decorative wooden panels that had been painstakingly crafted into intricate scenes. He might have paused to examine it if the elf woman hadn’t pushed it open, gesturing for him to precede her inside.</p><p></p><p>The Chamber of Contemplation was similar to a number of such places that Kosk had visited. There were small shrines in each corner of the room dedicated to the four core elemental forces, the incense burning in the air shrine filling the room with a slight odor of spices. The back wall of the room consisted of large panels that had been pulled aside to reveal the stark beauty of the day; there must have been a gap there that allowed a view of the surrounding hills. From that angle Severon was invisible and inaudible, and it was almost possible to believe that they were far from any civilized settlement, bordered only by natural beauty and quiet.</p><p></p><p>A small wooden platform accessed by a pair of low steps led up to the edge of the overlook. Seated there was a person who Kosk almost took for a child. But it turned out to be a halfling, draped in a soft robe that enfolded his diminutive form. He was small even for that race, his features wizened with age, his scalp hairless and spotted. He looked as though a stray gust of wind could snatch him up and fling him out through the opening, but when he turned slowly to regard the approaching dwarf there was an intensity in his eyes that held the dwarf like an invisible grasp.</p><p></p><p>“Thank you, Embrae,” he said. The elf woman bowed and departed, leaving them alone.</p><p></p><p>“You wanted to see me,” Kosk said, making it a statement rather than a question.</p><p></p><p>“Yes,” the old halfling said. He rose up, slowly, the robe swirling around his withered frame. “I have been following your progress for some time, Kosk Stonefist. Word has come to me recently of your adventures in the north. Of strange discoveries, and ancient powers unlocked.”</p><p></p><p>“A series of mischances,” Kosk said.</p><p></p><p>“Really? Is that what you believe?”</p><p></p><p>“I don’t know what else to call it. I certainly wasn’t expecting anything of what happened.”</p><p></p><p>“Life rarely gives us what we expect.”</p><p></p><p>“Did you want something from me, Abbot?”</p><p></p><p>The old man walked past him into the room. He started toward the fire shrine but paused and turned back to face him. “You had a staff, did you not?”</p><p></p><p>Kosk blinked at the unexpected question. “My old one was pretty wrecked,” he said. “I haven’t gotten around to cutting a new one yet.”</p><p></p><p>“There are several fine alder trees here that could serve.”</p><p></p><p>“Abbot… do you know what it is we found, in the Silverpeak? This ancient power of which you speak?”</p><p></p><p>“I sense something… a change in you.”</p><p></p><p>“But you didn’t know me before. How can you know what’s different?”</p><p></p><p>The old man smiled. It felt odd to Kosk, looking down at someone instead of up, as he gotten used to during his time in the human-dominated lands of Arresh. “Point acknowledged,” Anaeus said. “But I can still feel a disequilibrium within you. A disturbance in your <em>ki</em>.”</p><p></p><p>“My <em>ki</em> has always been unsteady,” Kosk said. “Mine has not been a quiet path.”</p><p></p><p>“The imbalance is not in your path,” the old monk said. “It is within you, and it is building. It is tied to uncertainty, to anger, to confusion. Raw emotions. You are no longer certain of who you are, Kosk Stonefist. Searching out the answer to that is not something to be feared, but you must be wary. If you cannot control these feelings, learn to choose your own path, they will control you.”</p><p></p><p>“I’ve always chosen my own path,” Kosk said. “I’m here, am I not? You surely know what I was, before I came here. To the monastery in Crosspath, I mean. I gave up that life.”</p><p></p><p>“Have you?”</p><p></p><p>“Damn it, what do you want from me?”</p><p></p><p>The old man came up to him suddenly, quickly enough that Kosk started to take a step back in surprise. “Take my hand.”</p><p></p><p>Kosk regarded him for a moment, then did as he was bid. The halfling’s tiny hand was swallowed up in his thick, calloused mitts. “Is this a lesson about the power of <em>ki</em> versus physical strength?” he asked.</p><p></p><p>“Something like that,” Anaeus said, before his grip shifted and he snapped Kosk’s wrist.</p><p></p><p>“Aaarrggh!” Kosk cried as pain shot up his arm. He yanked his hand back and stared at the ancient monk with wide eyes. “What the hells…”</p><p></p><p>Anaeus held up his hand. “Assume Crane Stands In the Rushes.”</p><p></p><p>“What?”</p><p></p><p>“The stance. You remember it, do you not? It is one of the primary forms of the Open Hand.”</p><p></p><p>“It’s a little hard to do with a broken wrist!” Kosk shot back.</p><p></p><p>“You’ve fought through worse,” Anaeus said.</p><p></p><p>Kosk stared at him for a moment, then assumed the stance. There wasn’t much to it, just a subtle shifting of one’s feet, a straightening of the body. He tried to move his hands into position, only to grimace as the motion exacerbated his injured wrist.</p><p></p><p>Anaeus stepped forward and adjusted his other arm, slightly shifted one foot with his. “Focus. Concentrate on your core. Ignore the pain, it is nothing.”</p><p></p><p>Kosk started to make a sharp retort, but finally he closed his eyes and took a deep breath, settling further into the stance.</p><p></p><p>“Do you feel the injury? What is out of alignment?”</p><p></p><p>“Obviously,” Kosk said. When Anaeus just stared at him he added, “Yes, I feel it.”</p><p></p><p>“Correct the misalignment.”</p><p></p><p>Kosk blinked. “I’m not a healer…”</p><p></p><p>He was cut off as Anaeus slapped him across the face. “You said before that you control your path. That you are the master of your <em>ki</em>. How can you be either if you are not the master of your own body? Concentrate. Focus. Correct that which is broken.”</p><p></p><p>There was something insistent, commanding in the old man’s words that Kosk could not disobey. He focused, and as his concentration pressed inward he felt something. The pain of his wound was there, of course, but now he could see it as more than just that. There <em>was</em> an imbalance, a barrier that felt like an obstruction blocking the flow of a river. Cautiously, not quite sure what he was doing, he reached out with his consciousness and pressed at that barrier. At first it was implacable, like a stone wall embedded in his awareness, but then it shifted and was gone. The flow of energy through his body resumed. He could feel other disruptions deeper within him, buried deep, but for the moment they were out of his reach.</p><p></p><p>Kosk realized that the pain had disappeared. Surprised, he opened his eyes and twisted his wrist. The limb moved normally, as if it had never been injured at all. “That… what did you…”</p><p></p><p>“I did nothing,” Anaeus said. “I merely showed you a new part of the path. You must still walk it. And there are difficult stretches ahead, as you seek truth. Your truth.”</p><p></p><p>“What do you mean?”</p><p></p><p>“You must seek out the elves of Tal Nadesh,” he said. “There you will find what you need.”</p><p></p><p>“Tal Nadesh? That’s a month’s journey from here. I have obligations here… What’s there? What do I need to find?”</p><p></p><p>Anaeus waved a hand, but Kosk pressed forward. “Look, I don’t like mysteries. If you know something, just tell me, please. In plain words.”</p><p></p><p>“I have no answers for you, brother.”</p><p></p><p>“How do you know I have to go to Tal Nadesh?”</p><p></p><p>Anaeus took the last few steps over to the fire shrine. He waved a hand over the flame burning in the bowl there, causing it to dance and take on strange shapes. “I myself see only glimpses, fragments of a larger mosaic,” he said. “Believe me, it can be quite frustrating at times.”</p><p></p><p>“Yeah, I know how that feels,” Kosk said.</p><p></p><p>“I sense that a time of crisis is fast approaching. I suspect that your own personal journey, and that of your friends, is connected to this. What I have seen suggests that you will have an important role to play, Kosk Stonefist. I do not know what will happen if you do not go to Tal Nadesh. Nor can I tell you what you will find when you go there. I can only tell you that something important awaits you there. You must choose to walk the path. In this, I am only a messenger.”</p><p></p><p>He turned and walked back to the overlook platform. Kosk just watched him. He looked down at his wrist, flexed the muscles of his hand, and considered the old man’s words.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Lazybones, post: 7403239, member: 143"] Chapter 151 Kosk paused to catch his breath as the steep trail reached another switchback, curving back in on itself as part of the long ascent up the mountainside. It looked like he still had quite a way left to go. He should have been able to make the climb easily, but he’d let himself go somewhat since their arrival here in Severon, and now he was paying the price. He adjusted his bracers, reflexively checking the knives tucked into them. So be it. He was no stranger to paying the price for mistakes he’d made. As he turned back to the next stage of the trail he paused to glance back at the city. He’d already climbed high enough to give him an exceptional view. Severon was sprawled out across the landscape before him. The distinctive buildings of the ruling district were instantly obvious. Kosk could see the Apernium, the Royal Palace, the Great Library, and the other monumental structures that served as testament to the ingenuity and ambition of man. For a moment the dwarf’s thoughts flashed back to Underhold, but he quickly squashed that impulse and resumed his trek up the path. He soon came to yet another set of stone steps. They were ancient, worn smooth by weather and the tread of countless feet. They were sized for humans, and Kosk found himself annoyed as each one extracted a bit more exertion than was necessary. He wondered how they got supplies up here; he hadn’t seen any markings or droppings that would suggest the use of mules or other draft animals. The monks probably had their acolytes lug packs laden with ten stone of grain up the hill as a way of building their bodies and focusing their ki. There had been plenty of that kind of business back at the monastery in Crosspath. He had not been an easy student, and for a moment a smile crept across his face at the memory. He was pulled from his reveries as he reached the top of the steps and a gust of chill wind swept over him. He looked up and realized that his destination had come into view. The Monastery of the Quiet Path was not quite at the crest of the peak, instead nestled into a broad gap that would shelter it from the worst of the wind. A stone wall warded the mouth of that opening, but he could see the peaked wooden roofs of the interior buildings rising behind it. The largest of those had to be the Great Hall, the curving eaves supporting a tall roof that culminated in a small turret. That pinnacle likely held the bell that would chime the periods of the day and call the monks to service. Warring impulses passed through the dwarf for a moment, but finally he lowered his head and resumed his journey. Another three sets of stairs connected by long stretches of path stood between him and his destination, but now that he’d made his decision the twinges in his legs and the angry tugs of the wind no longer troubled him. As he drew close to the wall he could see that the front gate, a considerable construction of heavy wooden boards banded in iron, stood open. It was flanked by banners that were securely attached with iron rods at both top and bottom to the surrounding wall. They fluttered wildly in the wind, but Kosk could still recognize the standards of the orders they represented. Despite the sentiment offered by the name of the place, he saw his own order, the Open Hand, included in the tally. There were no guards visible, and no one appeared to challenge him as he made his way through the open gates. The main yard was empty, but there was plenty of activity. The buildings were familiar, in type if not in their architecture, and he quickly identified the living quarters for the acolytes and full initiates, the dining hall, and the workshop. There were covered gardens and even a greenhouse, though they would still likely have to bring supplies along that long trek up the mountain. Over it all loomed the mass of the Great Hall, more imposing now that he could see it in its full majesty. The top of the bell tower had to be at least fifty feet above the packed earth of the yard. Broad stone steps led up to a pair of entrances that also stood open, letting in the air and light of the day. Kosk headed in that direction. A few of the monks noticed him but offered only a brief look and a nod before returning to their labors. He passed a courtyard where a dozen monks were practicing a kata. The familiar movements were reassuring. As he started up the steps that led up to the Great Hall a slender figure emerged from within to greet him. At first Kosk thought it was the young monk who had delivered the message to him back in the city, but as she stepped forward into the light he saw it was a woman, the first he’d seen at the monastery thus far. Her hair was trimmed close like the other monks, but she was still beautiful, her features soft and slightly exotic. As he reached her he was surprised to see that she was an elf, which explained her unusual appearance but not her presence here. A small emblem of a blooming rose was stitched into the fabric of her robe, a feature that evoked some vague memory that Kosk could not immediately place. “Thank you for coming, Brother Stonefist,” she said. “I am Embrae. Abbot Anaeus is waiting for you in the Chamber of Contemplation.” She gestured for him to enter, and after a moment he did. The interior of the hall was dominated by a tall central space that was only sparsely decorated. Thick wooden pillars rose to support the braces of the ceiling above. The floors were bare wood polished to a bright shine. A few iron braziers that were currently unlit flanked a shrine built into one wall. The sigils of the six orders were present there as well, surrounding an icon that Kosk knew represented the primal energy of life, of [i]ki[/i]. “Rather more humble than what you had in Crosspath, I believe,” Embrae said. “You seem to know a lot about me,” Kosk replied. “The Abbot has taken an interest in you,” Embrae said. “He has been engaged in a correspondence with the Abbess Laurine for a number of decades now. They are good friends, in fact.” “One doesn’t see many elves in the orders,” Kosk said. “Must be a story behind that.” “The same could be said for dwarves,” she said. “Perhaps we can exchange tales sometime.” As she spoke the came to another door, the first closed one Kosk had seen since his arrival. The door was covered in decorative wooden panels that had been painstakingly crafted into intricate scenes. He might have paused to examine it if the elf woman hadn’t pushed it open, gesturing for him to precede her inside. The Chamber of Contemplation was similar to a number of such places that Kosk had visited. There were small shrines in each corner of the room dedicated to the four core elemental forces, the incense burning in the air shrine filling the room with a slight odor of spices. The back wall of the room consisted of large panels that had been pulled aside to reveal the stark beauty of the day; there must have been a gap there that allowed a view of the surrounding hills. From that angle Severon was invisible and inaudible, and it was almost possible to believe that they were far from any civilized settlement, bordered only by natural beauty and quiet. A small wooden platform accessed by a pair of low steps led up to the edge of the overlook. Seated there was a person who Kosk almost took for a child. But it turned out to be a halfling, draped in a soft robe that enfolded his diminutive form. He was small even for that race, his features wizened with age, his scalp hairless and spotted. He looked as though a stray gust of wind could snatch him up and fling him out through the opening, but when he turned slowly to regard the approaching dwarf there was an intensity in his eyes that held the dwarf like an invisible grasp. “Thank you, Embrae,” he said. The elf woman bowed and departed, leaving them alone. “You wanted to see me,” Kosk said, making it a statement rather than a question. “Yes,” the old halfling said. He rose up, slowly, the robe swirling around his withered frame. “I have been following your progress for some time, Kosk Stonefist. Word has come to me recently of your adventures in the north. Of strange discoveries, and ancient powers unlocked.” “A series of mischances,” Kosk said. “Really? Is that what you believe?” “I don’t know what else to call it. I certainly wasn’t expecting anything of what happened.” “Life rarely gives us what we expect.” “Did you want something from me, Abbot?” The old man walked past him into the room. He started toward the fire shrine but paused and turned back to face him. “You had a staff, did you not?” Kosk blinked at the unexpected question. “My old one was pretty wrecked,” he said. “I haven’t gotten around to cutting a new one yet.” “There are several fine alder trees here that could serve.” “Abbot… do you know what it is we found, in the Silverpeak? This ancient power of which you speak?” “I sense something… a change in you.” “But you didn’t know me before. How can you know what’s different?” The old man smiled. It felt odd to Kosk, looking down at someone instead of up, as he gotten used to during his time in the human-dominated lands of Arresh. “Point acknowledged,” Anaeus said. “But I can still feel a disequilibrium within you. A disturbance in your [i]ki[/i].” “My [i]ki[/i] has always been unsteady,” Kosk said. “Mine has not been a quiet path.” “The imbalance is not in your path,” the old monk said. “It is within you, and it is building. It is tied to uncertainty, to anger, to confusion. Raw emotions. You are no longer certain of who you are, Kosk Stonefist. Searching out the answer to that is not something to be feared, but you must be wary. If you cannot control these feelings, learn to choose your own path, they will control you.” “I’ve always chosen my own path,” Kosk said. “I’m here, am I not? You surely know what I was, before I came here. To the monastery in Crosspath, I mean. I gave up that life.” “Have you?” “Damn it, what do you want from me?” The old man came up to him suddenly, quickly enough that Kosk started to take a step back in surprise. “Take my hand.” Kosk regarded him for a moment, then did as he was bid. The halfling’s tiny hand was swallowed up in his thick, calloused mitts. “Is this a lesson about the power of [i]ki[/i] versus physical strength?” he asked. “Something like that,” Anaeus said, before his grip shifted and he snapped Kosk’s wrist. “Aaarrggh!” Kosk cried as pain shot up his arm. He yanked his hand back and stared at the ancient monk with wide eyes. “What the hells…” Anaeus held up his hand. “Assume Crane Stands In the Rushes.” “What?” “The stance. You remember it, do you not? It is one of the primary forms of the Open Hand.” “It’s a little hard to do with a broken wrist!” Kosk shot back. “You’ve fought through worse,” Anaeus said. Kosk stared at him for a moment, then assumed the stance. There wasn’t much to it, just a subtle shifting of one’s feet, a straightening of the body. He tried to move his hands into position, only to grimace as the motion exacerbated his injured wrist. Anaeus stepped forward and adjusted his other arm, slightly shifted one foot with his. “Focus. Concentrate on your core. Ignore the pain, it is nothing.” Kosk started to make a sharp retort, but finally he closed his eyes and took a deep breath, settling further into the stance. “Do you feel the injury? What is out of alignment?” “Obviously,” Kosk said. When Anaeus just stared at him he added, “Yes, I feel it.” “Correct the misalignment.” Kosk blinked. “I’m not a healer…” He was cut off as Anaeus slapped him across the face. “You said before that you control your path. That you are the master of your [i]ki[/i]. How can you be either if you are not the master of your own body? Concentrate. Focus. Correct that which is broken.” There was something insistent, commanding in the old man’s words that Kosk could not disobey. He focused, and as his concentration pressed inward he felt something. The pain of his wound was there, of course, but now he could see it as more than just that. There [i]was[/i] an imbalance, a barrier that felt like an obstruction blocking the flow of a river. Cautiously, not quite sure what he was doing, he reached out with his consciousness and pressed at that barrier. At first it was implacable, like a stone wall embedded in his awareness, but then it shifted and was gone. The flow of energy through his body resumed. He could feel other disruptions deeper within him, buried deep, but for the moment they were out of his reach. Kosk realized that the pain had disappeared. Surprised, he opened his eyes and twisted his wrist. The limb moved normally, as if it had never been injured at all. “That… what did you…” “I did nothing,” Anaeus said. “I merely showed you a new part of the path. You must still walk it. And there are difficult stretches ahead, as you seek truth. Your truth.” “What do you mean?” “You must seek out the elves of Tal Nadesh,” he said. “There you will find what you need.” “Tal Nadesh? That’s a month’s journey from here. I have obligations here… What’s there? What do I need to find?” Anaeus waved a hand, but Kosk pressed forward. “Look, I don’t like mysteries. If you know something, just tell me, please. In plain words.” “I have no answers for you, brother.” “How do you know I have to go to Tal Nadesh?” Anaeus took the last few steps over to the fire shrine. He waved a hand over the flame burning in the bowl there, causing it to dance and take on strange shapes. “I myself see only glimpses, fragments of a larger mosaic,” he said. “Believe me, it can be quite frustrating at times.” “Yeah, I know how that feels,” Kosk said. “I sense that a time of crisis is fast approaching. I suspect that your own personal journey, and that of your friends, is connected to this. What I have seen suggests that you will have an important role to play, Kosk Stonefist. I do not know what will happen if you do not go to Tal Nadesh. Nor can I tell you what you will find when you go there. I can only tell you that something important awaits you there. You must choose to walk the path. In this, I am only a messenger.” He turned and walked back to the overlook platform. Kosk just watched him. He looked down at his wrist, flexed the muscles of his hand, and considered the old man’s words. [/QUOTE]
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