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Marcus eyed the briefcase. It was more than he would have asked for. There was only one way Parish could be completely sure that Harris hadnt killed Turner. An innocent client would indeed be a new phenomenon for him. Good. He lay back and closed his eyes. He looked like a statue in repose, still and serene. A little help with getting to sleep would be appreciated, Lady Jeren. Shan frowned and curved his left hand on the hilt of his sect knife, the right one against his sword. Both weapons felt cold, but wholly real. The only real thing about the scene before him. He acknowledged it to himself, swallowing hard on the lump in his throat.You are not Analas ghost. Here, Indarin told her. This will help. Violet feels herself grow light-headed. Her limbs are too heavy for her body; her thoughts a soft swirl. Thirty years of memories spin, gently, in front of her drowsy eyes. She tries to centre herself. Sees herself doing as she was told; making her way to the secluded little spot halfway up the fellside in a knotted tangle of trees. She had been sweating from the steep climb through the forest, boots caked with mud, shirt clinging to her back, camera bouncing from her softly rounded belly with each step up the near-invisible path. A broad-shouldered, shaved-headed woman had greeted her with an embrace, pressing her own softness against her. She had shushed her even before she found breath to talk. Had helped her from her shirt and her shoes. Led her inside the sacred place and laid her down. She had not spoken. Didnt make a noise until the incantation began. Imn writing a book, :he says. There are unanswered questions. Please, Shan, let me help. Tell Anala I can help. The sentry on the edge of the camp stiffened as she approached the darkness, a blanket wrapped around her shoulders. It was cold this night, and that was why she shivered like a child waking from a nightmare. I read your story, says Rowan, gently – moving towards her as if trying to shush a nervous pony. Its very good. Youre an excellent writer. I reached for the door handle.Once I find my daughter, I am going to kill Christian Salyer. What do you want? His hands clenched tighter as rage tore through him. What do you want from me? Yes. In a formal way. Those words would ordinarily have bound you both together for life. Did he never discuss it with you? Shan must have been desperate. He would not have voiced them lightly. Jeren! Vertigern came bustling through the camp, still pulling on his clothes. Elayne followed, fully armed, flawless. Jeren, are you all right? Jerens numb hands slipped from Ariahs and she stood helpless, her prayers jumbling together in her mind. She stood there, like one of the statues surrounding the Burgeoning Well at home, coldly beautiful façades of stone without a heart or breath. Her future, if she lost him. Gods help her, she couldnt lose him. She couldn’t! Through the window, she spied a young woman whod already started her days drinking. Sitting alone on the other side of the glass, she raised a shot to her lips, tipping back the clear spirit and demolishing it with a single swallow. Her long black hair hid her face, but Samara saw enough. The girl placed the glass on the table, and a second later, raised a second. The guards at the main entrance to the dungeons would have turned her back, but the approach from the crypts was not guarded. Perhaps no one saw a need. After all, who would be coming from the halls of the dead at this hour? Jeren pushed open the rusty gate..