Ma's first instinct was to bow. Dael kept his head high, watched the riders draw to a halt at the end of the hedge. They wore gleaming helmets with tall feathered plumes, and they carried swords, spears. They were soldiers.
The leader spoke without removing his helmet. "Where is your king?"
He spoke with an accent, but he head learned the language well, spoke it as one accustomed. Dael had never seen his kind before, but he knew who they were.
"Our king is distant. He doesn't even know we're alive," Dael said.
The leader said, "You have golden hair."
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