He did not look up, so he did not know that in her other hand she held a glass of wine. ‘I was not born to this. A moment before he had been a strong man, she had been in his power, a poor helpless thing. “I am developing ailments,” she said, meeting his questioning eyes. “You too sing?” he asked. And, lastly, to the Seven Cities o' Refuge, in the New Mint.
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