“Too bad to keep you waiting,” Annabel exclaimed. Selecting a key from the heavy bunch committed to him by Austin, he threw open the door, and beheld Blueskin seated at the back of the small chamber, handcuffed, and with his feet confined in a heavy pair of stocks. She expanded that. But what he could do or might do she could not imagine. She raided their settlements in shifts, staggering her kills from tribe to tribe, undiscriminating of their petty politics.
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