Returning to the audience-chamber, Blueskin had the Jew brought before him. 32 The curtains and tapestries had appeared over the windows before Marina had died, growing moldy from the dampness and the oils of lavender, clove, and clary sage soaking them. Nowhere could he see that reaching, menacing Hand. Laughed at me, then. “So it’s like you’re a dead end?” He asked innocently.
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