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... ong men.

Itzili had grown and recovered enough for me to ride him as we passed through the city gates. How mighty I must have looked to the commoners of my forlorn empire, clad in the scarlet armor of past emperors atop a feathered tyrant. An army of trihorn riders and footsmen followed in my wake, singing my praises with their mouths and war horns. My consorts, old and new, waved at the cheering crowds from atop the imperial longneck. If anybody noticed that Chindi had slipped into Eztl ...

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