From a scout stationed at the northern entrance, whom she addressed in the jargon of the place, with which long usage had formerly rendered her familiar, she ascertained that Blueskin, accompanied by a youth, whom she knew by the description must be her son, had arrived there about three hours before, and had proceeded to the Cross Shovels. ‘Oh, mon dieu. Let us pass, Sir. Rhea laughed and lunged for the broadsword that Sebastian had carelessly left lying on the ground. You’ve got me.
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