"Five guineas. So go up-stairs and get your things together while I look out for a hansom. ” He leaned back for his soup. " "Ah! Sometimes I wonder I don't run amok and kill someone," said the Wastrel, in broken English. The taste of his sweat was intoxicating, like sweet brandy, like blood. To win the contest meant you would be chosen to apprentice in magic as a priest under her tutelage.
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