She wanted his attention, but so did everyone else. “I want you to kiss me,” she said. Instead her point disengaged, dropped, and then the sword came up again and banged, flatbladed, onto Gosse’s wrist with such force that his own blade dropped from his grasp. The fanatic has no such word in his vocabulary. In all this world there was no sacred ground that said to her: Return! She was of all human beings the most lonely.
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