He depended upon her, for his medicine, for his drink, for the little amusement it was now permissible to give him. A corner could hold the promise of a shelf of dainty crystals, volcanic ices of rainbow colors, or figurines of saints sculpted from horn and bone reenacting their martyrdoms on delicate miniature wooden stages. “And where,” he asked, “are my rivals?” “Deserters,” she answered, laughing. Their conversation became stilted.
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