He smothered a laugh. Outside stood a stocky, combat boot-clad girl of seventeen with a teased mass of spiky bottle-black hair. He had an objective now. Horrors abounded in every passageway as each turn could bring a vision of a poor woman running from her screaming plague-infested son or a bloated corpse of a rich man whose mouth lolled open, showing gaps where someone had pried out a few golden teeth. " "More blood! more blood!" cried Trenchard, passing his hand with agony across his brow. E. In the hall below she could hear his firm voice giving quick commands to the servants. ‘You would have a history of my life? Very well.
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