ugged a little harder.

    “Dont, Pan!”

    But  stop. tcionless. t grew more and more unbearable, and a sob of longing rose in .

    “Pan—”

    te, scrambling over too a  and sprang up into ogetigtle sh.

    “I t you really would—”

    “No—”

    “I couldnt believe  —”

    And tears aed and face t sadness again; it oget at Jordan.

    t tary bear.  sucir of pity and gentleness for  s reac to toucted pelt, and only a sense of courtesy toed her.

    “lorek Byrnison,” she said.

    “ell?”

    “Lord Faa and Farder Coram o try and get your armor for you.”

    move or speak. It heir chances.

    “I knoold you, maybe you could get it by yourself, I dont know.”

    “ is?”

    “I got a symbol reader. I t to tell you, lorek Byrnison, seeing as tricked you out of it in t place. I dont ts rigve done t. Lord Faas going to argue  probably t let you  he kids from Bolvangar?”

    “Yes.”

    “I...” S mean to be nosy, but s  you just make some more armor out of tal here, lorek Byrnison?”

    “Because its ing tended a cla t like a can opener. “My armor is made of sky iron, made for me. A bears armor is  as your daemon is your soul. You migake ing Pantalaimon—”and replace . t is the difference. Now, where is my armor?”

    “Listen, you got to promise not to take vengeance. taking it, but you just got to put up .”

    “All riger no ake it, either.

    If t, they die.”

    “Its s old  in it, and rying to conjure it out. But ts