The Wastrel—as we call him—cannot play when he's sober; hands too shaky. ’ Looking round, she found the little coterie of soldiers crowded into the passage behind them. She could smell the savory tinge of his sweat in the air. ” She growled. ” He said as they parted company. Capes went first, finding footholds and, where the drops in the strataedges came like long, awkward steps, placing Ann Veronica’s feet.
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