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I came to a herd of fat brown cattle, lowing disquietly as I passed, and then to a palace like nothing I’d ever seen. It was larger by far than the citadel in Tromsdal, like a crystal mountain, with steep, straight walls of gleaming yellow quartz. The entrance was unguarded, and I crossed an emerald bridge that arched above a clear, narrow stream. I entered the crystal halls without hearing a soundor meeting a soul. The doorways and ceilings were built for a giant twice my height, and piles of gold nuggets were hoarded in random corners; I wondered at the wealth hidden away in this other world. Finally, I heard the hum of a spinning wheel. When I entered the high-ceilinged chamber, a beautiful young woman was sitting there, dressed all in silk and surrounded by amber light with no specific source. Against the far wall was a great couch with round, satiny pillows, but the woman sat on a polished wooden stool; she was spinning copper yarn. Tall as she was, she seemed scarcely more than achild; her neck was like a swan’s, while her white skin looked softer than down — surely this was one of the King’s daughters..

The driver stuttered to a stop as she realized that Kyes might take her comments as criticism of the privy council. Then she recovered. A toady's smile wreathed her broad face.. The occupants in the Suburban were tossed around like rag dolls, except for the Marine seated in the front right passenger’s seat, who was strapped in his shoulder harness. The explosion’s blast had blown in the front windshield despite the hardened window mountings. Shards of glass showered the occupants of the Suburban.. GUARDSMEN'S FAMILIES IN SHOCK... TRAGIC IMPERIAL FOUL-UP on rurik... The more thoughtful vid casts weighed in with: ALTAIC TURMOIL TIED TO ISKRA... QUESTIONS RAISED ON EMPEROR'S CHOICE OF OBSCURE PROFESSOR... ISKRA: THE SCHOLAR TYRANT.. CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

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Genrikh ground his teeth against his bottleneck, producing a singularly unpleasant noise. He had spent half a lifetime as an expert penologist. He knew the way to handle the subbeings that committed crimes. Crime to him was anything that contradicted the Way of the Tahn, which he defined as anything that his current superior ordered.. She didn’t peel down to the buff, just to socks and underwear; but that was enough for Ted. If nothing else convinced him that he was seeing a world that never was or would be, that underwear did the trick. Plain, serviceable, but unlike any he had ever seen. Baggy shorts with a loincloth panel that passed between the legs and tied in the back. A brassiere that consisted of twin slings and a bib that hung over the top and fastened with bows. The overall effect was odd—half Victorian, half Victoria’s Secret.. Cind: Human. Expert sniper. Descended from a now-obliterated warrior cult. A highly respected combat leader.. Why not? They would have done the same, had they the chance.

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