Kneebone nodded. Your fingers are even now as stiff as a schoolgirl’s. The Old Mint. And, after all, a fine clear sky of bright colors is the signal to come out of hiding and rejoice and go on with life. Only first you must find the lantern and light it again and leave it here, near the door, for me to find. After all, the Wastrel was in luck: he was alone. Even now, my problems begin to catch up with me; they will discover me soon. You cannot refuse me this.
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