Instead, God had sent her Sebastianus, a man who had sold his soul to the Devil to gain eternal life, or perhaps he was even the Devil himself. The Press Room, to which Blueskin was conveyed on his arrival at the jail, was a small square chamber, walled and paved with stone. “And where,” he asked, “are my rivals?” “Deserters,” she answered, laughing. People who would not go. “I brought a man with me who is posted outside,” he remarked.
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