Three times he uttered a phrase: "A djinn in a blue-serge coat!" And each time he would follow it with a chuckle—the chuckle of a soul in damnation. Vorsack would just have to live with it. Rushing towards the entrance of the well-hole, Blueskin touched the secret spring. They looked out over the city, grim and silent now, for it was long past midnight. “I have a letter for him from his brother, which I was just leaving.
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