Her fingers clutched the side of the door as though to steady herself. At the back of her mind, Melusine noted an odd look in the boy’s face, but there was no time to explore it. He was always word-building, a metaphorist, lavish with singing adjectives; but often he built in confusion because it was difficult to describe something beautiful in a new yet simple way. No one had the resources or the inclination to rebuild them. Ramage!” she cried, and struggled to her feet.
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