She was gone. He felt hands tugging at him, mysterious creatures with long fingers and sharp nails that pulled at his flesh. They cannot imagine the discomforts involved, and they see only mystery in your fight to recover your lost heritage. A young lad—Roding took him for a footman, or a groom by the neat black garb—was halted some paces away from Valade, his hat in his hand as he made pretence of fanning himself.
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