Now it’s not for me to disillusion anybody. After all, enduring as a poet is very much a life of encouraging misapprehensions and spreading enchantment. So people rather assume that as a poet I live a most cerebral existence. A life of witty repartee, deep and meaningful insights, and wise words, graciously dispensed. To be fair, there is some of that, but perhaps less than one might hope. As a poet I am at the disposal of my patrons and their whims will often drive my actions.
So Madam Doon mentioned to me that, having contemplated the actions of her husband and her daughter, she felt that there had to be Urlan blood in the family. She admitted that it was obviously a long way back, but still the presence of a ferocious, honour-driven warrior in her husband’s family seemed to explain much.
I have mentioned the family before,
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