A gaunt, powerful man: no feature of his face decided, and yet for all that it had the significance of a countenance hewn out of rock. She guessed that he probably slept all of three hours a night at most. It probably had its own repulsive oubliette in the bottom, where tiny princesses could fall and break their necks. Then she moved towards the door. E. Blueskin, you are a true friend.
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