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... f my coat—*"Protect him, Perkons, god of thunder."* But the gods had left Latvia long before the civil war. Now, as I clutched my sister’s locket on the storm-washed deck of the *LNS Viesturs*, I wondered if Perkons was watching. Or if he, too, had been devoured by the cannons and dragons and greed of men.
Two years. Two years since the civil war shattered Riga. I still remember the smoke—thick, black coils rising from the Senate House as Caspian’s rebels dragged loyalists into the stree ...
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