The taste of his sweat was intoxicating, like sweet brandy, like blood. “What do you mean?” she asked. “To Paris! But why? What do you hope to discover there?” “I do not know,” he answered, “but I am going to see David Courtlaw. “May you have as much good fortune as you deserve, but not enough to make you forget us. No surprise, for Melusine was aware no Frenchman in his situation would dream of walking abroad unarmed.
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