"She's still young," said Edmund, more heartily. "When she first started learning to read and write, other children were learning spellcraft, precisely because they did not have her promise. The more the power, the longer it takes to come into it." "She's not still learning how to read and write."
And they would not tell her, not until the hour for her to make ready was upon her. She thought they would give her adequate time. They did not want to risk her arriving late, as a person of such importance that such a slight would be ignored by the hostess. She sat back. They would say that she was too young, that her attendance had to be carefully managed by those who knew the proper manner, to guard her where she knew too little, because such dances were dangerous for marriageable maidens. As if they would let her marry.
No burst of knowledge followed that thought. Certainly not whether she could be convincing as having dyed her hair. She felt young. But not one year old, despite the knowledge that she was. Perhaps she could actually dye her hair brown. That brought new knowledge, that eyelashes were a problem.
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"She's not still learning how to read and write."
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She sat back. They would say that she was too young, that her attendance had to be carefully managed by those who knew the proper manner, to guard her where she knew too little, because such dances were dangerous for marriageable maidens.
As if they would let her marry.
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She felt young. But not one year old, despite the knowledge that she was.
Perhaps she could actually dye her hair brown. That brought new knowledge, that eyelashes were a problem.
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“And they ask for advice from the Council of Mothers and Council of Men, yes. But why remove me from the Council of Men?”
“It’s true name is the Council of Young Hotheads. You no longer qualify.”
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