One could enter and leave by proa, but nothing with a keel could cross the coral gate. I think we will soon, though. It was a bizarre sight, a miniature manor, replicated fully, walled in gray limestone. So often as she had herself manipulated a dagger, she could not mistake the shape that pressured across her chest, or the sharp point that dug below her bosom. Trodger might not need his hair dressed, but the flagon of ale that each soldier quaffed would be welcome—once his captain had departed, thought Roding cynically.
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