She used his own gun against him, a method that was occasionally cleaner than slitting throats when she got it right. ” After all, it was not so easy. He knew me, Nigel. The books would be soaked and ruined in the rain anyway through the thin skin of the pack. For a while they stood there, silent, motionless, staring at the doorway where still a few strings of the bamboo curtain swayed and twisted, agitated by the Wastrel's passage.
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