Kneebone, then, sat down to await the arrival of his expected guest. The taste of his sweat was intoxicating, like sweet brandy, like blood. "Damnation!" cried Kneebone. At the back of her mind, Melusine noted an odd look in the boy’s face, but there was no time to explore it. . ’ ‘You certain? She’s a thought too volatile for my money. Both the fugitive and his chasers embarked on the Thames.
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