Their masts had become her battering rams, andswarms of freedmen had torn their hulls apart to build mantlets, turtles,catapults, and ladders. Thelittle scribe with the big golden eyes was wise beyond her years. Marillion was comely, there was no denying it; boyish and slender, with smoothskin, sandy hair, a charming smile. When he looked straight down past hisfeet, the ground was lost in shadow, as if he were being lowered into somebottomless pit.
You said it was my mother you loved. Look around you, andtake a good whiff. They plotted it together, she said, this girl he'd loved. It will come today, most like.
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