’ Melusine’s voice petered out. ‘For God’s sake, let go my hand,’ he begged. It began to rain, a cold sweat of precipitation that was more sickly than refreshing. "You'll be as good as your word, my charmer," whispered the executioner. ’ ‘They wear a uniform, do they not? They march and fight with swords and shoot with guns, no?’ ‘Well, yes, miss.
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