His eyes closed. The nun on the threshold was of middle age and heavily built, her back uneven from toil and her hands roughened. "Where is your accursed master?" demanded Blueskin, holding the sword to his throat. " "Why, surely you can't be in earnest, Captain. Cathy and Shari toiled over boiling pots of potatoes, candied sweet potatoes with orange rind, corn casserole, and almond green beans. As soon as he finished a sheet, he tossed it aside and began another.
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