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- Mort swung the sword at arm’s length. It scythed through the air with a noise like ripping silk and buried itself in the doorpost by Albert’s ear.
- ON YOUR KNEES, ALBERTO MALICH.
- Albert’s mouth dropped open. His eyes rolled sideways to the shimmering blade a few inches from his head, and then narrowed to tight little lines.
- ***
- Mort p157
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