"To—to—no matter what," returned the widow distractedly. A-L-I-V-A—Aliva—T-R-EN—Trencher that's it. She was the High Priestess. The girl was like some north-country woodland pool, penetrated by a single shaft of sunlight—beautifully clear in one spot and mysteriously obscured elsewhere. ‘It is all too probable that she would wish to change into lay clothing to escape recognition. My janizaries are without.
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