Текст книги "Dragonfly"
Автор книги: Julia Golding
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Chapter 10
The Fens in winter were a strange place, home to wild birds with eerie calls that sliced through
the thick freezing mists curling off the water. The reeds were frosted white, pale ghosts of their
green summer selves. The channels were edged with wafer-thin ice like lace on a lady's gown.
Black eels could be glimpsed rolling in the muddy water beneath, their skins shining with an oily
sheen. The riders had to pick their way through the paths, often trusting themselves to unsafe
causeways and bridges as they headed deeper into the marshy lands. They saw only a few
people, most of whom travelled by flat-bottomed boats, going about their secret business away
from the highways of Fergox's empire. Wherever the three travellers could, they avoided being
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seen, hiding in the rushes until the waterpeople had passed.
Finding shelter at night was the main problem as they had now gone beyond Gordoc's
knowledge of these lands. After the mill, they had risked spending the dark hours in a
fisherman's empty hut, horses and humans crowded together for warmth. The rotten hull of an
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upturned boat hosted them the third day from Felixholt, but by the fourth they were in the
empty flats of the true Fens and were facing a night in the open.
Ramil looked down at the golden head of the girl sitting in front of him, who was wrapped in
scarf, cloak, and his own arms, but still she shivered. He wondered if she would survive a cold
night outside. Her wound was healing slowly and she winced with the pain any time she moved
her leg. Luckily no fever had set in–perhaps it had been too cold for that.
"We'll stop early tonight," Ramil announced. "Build a shelter and a fire."
Gordoc nodded. "Aye, Ram. We have to keep her warm."
The level space between two stands of rushes offered as good a campsite as any they would find
for miles. A willow tree wept in one corner forming a natural barrier against the snow falling
gently from the sky. The clouds were iron grey like an old bruise.
Tashi accepted Gordoc's help to dismount. "I'll go and bathe my leg," she said, limping out of the clearing, carrying with her a broad strip of cloth.
"Don't go far!" warned Ramil.
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"I won't–I can't," she called over her shoulder.
Together Ramil and Gordoc gathered some dead branches littering the space beneath the
willow and began to build a fire. The horses stood patiently under the tree, cropping the meager
winter grass that poked through the thin layer of snow. The blue roan shook his mane. Ramil
looked up.
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"What's the matter, Thunder?" he asked the horse. He'd given the stallion that name because
his coat reminded Ramil of a stormy sky.
The stallion shifted his hooves, his twitching muscles betraying that he was nervous about
something.
"I think there might be trouble," the Prince told Gordoc in a low voice. "Which way did Tashi go?"
Before the giant could answer, there was a shout from the eastern edge of the clearing. Five
men leapt out of the rushes, whooping and wielding pikes.
Ramil dived for his sword, still on the saddle, but was knocked back by a blow from the butt of a
pike held by a tall red-haired man. He tumbled to the ground, a boot pressed to his throat.
Gordoc was roaring with fury, hemmed in by four men prodding him with the points of their
weapons like a wild bear baited by huntsmen.
"What are you doing in our lands?" demanded the red-haired leader. He and his fellow bandits were dressed in strange clothes, muddy brown and green like the landscape, allowing them to
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creep up unseen upon their prey.
"They must be spies!" snarled a swarthy man, jabbing Gordoc in the stomach.
"Those horses–and the saddles–that's imperial gear," announced a third, jerking his head at the two stallions.
"Speak!" barked the leader.
Ramil struggled onto his knees, nursing his chest where he had been struck.
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"We stole them," he said, taking a guess that the Spearthrower's men were not welcome in this company.
"They lie," said the swarthy one. "They smell of Fergox and his thugs.
They've got this far. We'll have to kill them or they'll take back news of us to the occupier."
"I fear you are right. Sorry, lads, but we live in dangerous times and it is better to be safe than sorry." The leader drew a knife from his belt and yanked Ramil back by the hair, exposing his
throat to the blade.
Just then a stone sailed out of the rushes close to the river bank, hitting the red-haired man
square on the forehead. He was felled like a tree put to the axe. A second stone followed,
striking the swarthy man in the back. He yelled and sprang round, giving Gordoc a chance to
grab him in a crushing hug. Ramil scrambled to his feet and drew his sword. Tashi limped out
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into the open, her cloth sling weighed down with another missile. The three remaining men
retreated, holding their pikes out in front of them.
Ramil grinned at her in amazement. "I thought you didn't fight," he said, circling round to stand beside her.
"I don't fight for the Warmonger, but I'll fight for my friends," she replied, swinging her sling with intent. "You learn a thing or two as a goat girl."
"Thank the Mother for that." Ramil turned his attention back to the red-haired man who was
coming round. He placed the point of his sword at the man's throat.
"Now, let's start again, shall we?" he said politely. "We're not from Fergox–
not in the sense you mean. In fact, we are even less anxious than you to meet with his
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spies or his soldiers. We were just intending to make a peaceful camp and go on our way before
you rudely interrupted us. Now it seems only fair that you tell us who you are and why you felt
obliged to slit our throats without giving us a fair hearing?"
The red-haired man groaned and sat up. He then noticed the girl with her long fair hair and
immediately cringed away.
"The witch!" he cried, touching two fingers to his forehead to ward off evil.
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Tashi felt a flash of annoyance. "Let's not start all that again!" she said tartly.
"I'm not a witch. I'm just a foreigner with different colored hair who speaks another language. I didn't strike you down with a spell. I hit you with a stone picked up from the riverbank. You
should know because you can feel the lump it left on your thick skull!"
The man shuffled back a pace on all fours. "But you escaped from Felixholt by witchcraft, they
say."
"I escaped thanks to the cunning and strength of my friends and a bit of play-acting on my part."
She walked off to the edge of the clearing in disgust. "I hate Easterners," she muttered to the horses, burying her head in Thunder's mane.
Ramil smiled at the haughty back of the Princess Taoshira, relieved that she had regained some
of her spirit. "But at least you will believe us when we say we do not wish to place ourselves in Fergox's tender loving care again as we've taken so much trouble to escape. Now you know who
we are, tell us who you are."
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The red-haired leader raised his hands in a gesture of surrender. "I'm Melletin Fernson. You've
run into a patrol of the Fenland Resistance."
"Resistance? To the occupation by Holt?"
"That's right. The last unconquered corner. Fergox does not yet hold sway over this part of
Brigard, though he likes to claim it is all his. We only cling on here because he doesn't know too
much about us. That's why we were going to silence you."
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Ramil let the euphemism for killing him pass. There would be time enough to settle that score if
things went well. He lowered his sword. "Then, friend Melletin, we are on the same side. I am
Prince Ramil ac Burinholt, this is the Blue Crescent Princess you've heard about, and the giant
there squeezing that unpleasant fellow to death is our loyal friend, Gordoc Ironfist. Hey,
Gordoc!" Ramil called. "You'd better let him go."
The swarthy man dropped to the ground, gasping for air.
"Now the niceties of introductions are over, perhaps you would be so kind as to conduct us to
some shelter. The lady here has been wounded and could do with a proper healer, if you know
one." Ramil held out a hand to pull Melletin to his feet.
Melletin rubbed his forehead. "She's not the only one. I can take you to our camp. But I'm afraid we cannot offer luxuries fitted to a prince."
"My friend, last night I slept in a boat, the night before that in a hovel, so I'm sure whatever you have will be an improvement."
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Following in the footsteps of Melletin and his band, Ramil and Gordoc led the horses with Tashi
mounted on Thunder. They travelled deeper into the Fens. It was easy to see how the resistance
might be able to survive out in these wilds. No army could march through on this boggy ground
in formation and it would be relatively easy to pick off the enemy's forces in swift raids from the
rushes. Hundreds of men could simply be made to disappear and no one would ever know their
fate. Even the Spearthrower's favorite subduing tactic of slash and burn would not work here
where there was more water than fuel for fires.
They arrived at the camp at dusk. Tashi was relieved to see that it was a more substantial place
than she had anticipated, consisting of semi-permanent domed tents made from hides stretched
over bent poles. Each dwelling had its own chimney and garden plot. Melletin led them to his
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tent, one of the largest in the settlement.
"Please enter and take your rest. I must report our arrival to my commander and seek approval
for my decision to bring you here. I'll also send a doctor for the lady." He gave Tashi a wary look, but whether that was because he still thought her a witch or because he remembered her skill
with the sling, she didn't know.
Tashi was left alone in the tent while Ramil and Gordoc saw to the horses.
She stretched out with a sigh of pleasure on the cushions spread on the cheerful home-woven
rugs. The tent smelt of fresh rushes on the floor and wood smoke. Melletin's things were spread
around untidily. There was a neat little stove in
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the center with a pipe leading outside. Tashi held her chilblained hands up to the warmth,
feeling them tingle as they defrosted.
She heard a polite cough at the door. Tashi turned to find a man with long white hair and a
neatly trimmed beard waiting for permission to enter.
"Please come in," she said, half-rising.
"No, no, don't get up," said the man briskly, plumping his bag down on the floor beside her. "I'd be a poor doctor if I made my injured patients leap to their feet on my arrival."
"The wound's not so bad now."
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"Let me be the judge of that, young lady," the doctor said sternly. "Now let's have a look at it."
Shyly, Tashi drew aside her clothing. Alert to her embarrassment, the doctor began talking again
to take her mind away from his examination.
"My name is Norling, Professor Tadex Norling, formerly of the University of Molinder, our old
capital, now chief medical officer of the new capital of all true Brigardians, fondly known as
Fenbog."
"I'm honored, sir, to have your attention," Tashi said, guessing that this was quite a comedown for the august professor of medicine.
"God in his wisdom has seen fit to return me to my professional roots. Who am I to argue with
Him?" He unwound her makeshift bandage and gave a disgruntled hum. The wound was still
oozing blood and clearly giving the patient much pain.
"What did this and when?"
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"An arrow, four days ago."
"I suppose some fool ripped the head out without waiting to have it removed properly?"
"We were in something of a hurry to avoid more of these in our backs."
"Humph. You're lucky you came to me. It should have been stitched immediately, but I'll do my
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best. I'm afraid you'll have a scar for the rest of your life."
"Small price to pay, sir, for what I avoided in running away."
The doctor threaded a needle he took from a clean pack. "And what was that?"
"An unhappy marriage–"
He gave a world-weary sigh. "There're plenty of those, my dear."
"To Fergox Spearthrower."
"In that case, you got off very lightly indeed." He glanced up at his patient.
"This will hurt, I'm afraid."
The doctor was impressed: she uttered not a moan as he stitched the wound.
"Good girl. You only needed four," he announced, snapping the thread.
"Only four. That's very auspicious," she said dryly. "Thank you."
"I'll remove them in a few days. Keep the wound clean and let me know if anything changes."
"Yes, Doctor."
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He looked her over again, noting her thinness and signs of recent ill treatment. "I'd say what you need most is rest and good food."
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"I like that prescription."
"I don't suppose you want to say where you got those?" He pointed to the bruises on her arms, legs, and chest. He leant closer. "If the men you are with have been violent towards you, I can
help. We have laws against that kind of thing here."
Tashi gave a strained hiccup of laughter. "You are very kind. No, my companions have treated
me with the greatest possible respect and
tenderness. I got these because I'm a witch, apparently, and wouldn't fight the priests of Holin."
Professor Norling sat back on his heels and tutted. "Disgraceful. Sometimes I despair of my
fellow countrymen. Their minds are nests breeding
superstition and fear. I have a salve that will help those heal. Rub it on twice a day and they'll be
gone by tomorrow night."
Melletin returned with Ramil and Gordoc.
"I apologize, my lady, but the commander deems it necessary to see you immediately," he said.
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Professor Norling shook his head. "My patient needs rest. She certainly shouldn't go traipsing
around the camp: I've just this moment finished stitching her up!"
Melletin grimaced. "Perhaps you might like to explain that to the commander.
Rather you than me, Professor."
"How is she?" Ramil asked anxiously.
"She would be much better if some idiot hadn't torn out the arrow," Norling replied, throwing his equipment back into his bag. Ramil looked abashed.
"But she'll do very well now as she's fortunate enough to have the best doctor in Brigard to look after her."
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"And the most modest," Tashi slipped in, keeping her face straight.
"I'll carry her to this commander of yours," said Gordoc, cutting through the difficulties with his usual clear-sightedness. He wrapped Tashi in a blanket and picked her up. "Lead on."
Melletin guided them through the maze of wooden pathways connecting the camp. The ground
was so wet it would soon turn into a quagmire without the boards, he explained. Professor
Norling tagged along behind the party, still muttering about doctors never being listened to or
respected in this uncivilized hole.
The commander resided in a tent double the size of the others, divided into several rooms.
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Melletin showed them into the first of these, the public area, and then disappeared through a
flap to inform his leader of their arrival.
Ramil began to feel nervous. It was all very well persuading a patrol by force to take them in, but
how would the commander look upon their presence? It surely wouldn't have escaped his
attention that Fergox would be ripping Brigard apart to find the two fugitives.
A man of medium height and heavy build pushed the flap aside and strode into the room.
Dressed smartly in the same green and brown colors of his patrol, he had curly dark-red hair and
a hooked nose. No one could look into his face and make the mistake that here was a man to
mess with. He gave a perfunctory bow.
"Prince Ramil ac Burinholt, Princess Taoshira, welcome to Brigard," he said, taking a chair behind a table. "Please be seated." Melletin came in with some
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camp stools and set them on the rugs in front of the commander's desk.
Professor Norling bustled forward. "Your Grace, my patient cannot perch on that thing. She
needs a proper chair at the very least."
The man rose and picked up his own chair, bringing it round to Tashi.
"Will that do, Tadex?" he asked, taking a stool for himself.
Norling nodded and retired with his professional dignity intact to the pile of cushions at the side
of the chamber. Gordoc placed Tashi in the chair, then stood behind her, arms folded.
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"Thank you for your welcome, sir," said Ramil, taking his seat. "May we know who addresses us?"
"I am Nerul ac Mollinder, the Duke of Brigard, one of the last surviving members of the ruling
family."
Ramil stood up and bowed. "Your Grace, I am honored to meet you. We thought your family had
been wiped out by the Spearthrower."
Nerul spat at the mention of Fergox. "The last duke, my uncle, and his sons were killed in battle.
My mother and father were hanged on the battlements of our castle in Mollinder when the
occupier rode in to enjoy his triumph. The rest of my relatives are either dead or slaves. Only my
brother and I slipped through the net like two of our fenland eels."
"I grieve for the old duke and your family. My father always spoke most highly of him," said Ramil.
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A slim red-haired man entered from the private quarters carrying a roll of parchment. From the
strong resemblance between the two men, Ramil
guessed this was the younger brother, but whereas Nerul gave the
impression of authority and strength, this man was handsome and elegant, his movements
graceful–the courtier to the commander.
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"My brother, Merl ac Mollinder," Nerul said in a businesslike tone.
Merl bowed, inspecting the newcomers. He gave Ramil and Gordoc a brief glance, but his gaze
lingered on the Princess. Tashi lowered her eyes, not liking his frank interest.
"So, against the odds, you escaped the Spearthrower and stole his and the she-wolf's
warhorses," Nerul said, his fingers laced together on the desk.
"My spies carry all sorts of incredible tales about the pair of you– and your giant." He nodded at Gordoc. "You will not be surprised to hear that Fergox and his sister are none too pleased. I
understand that before you said your farewells to him, you were both destined in your different
ways to join the Spearthrower dynasty."
Ramil nodded. "Therefore you will understand why we were so anxious to put some distance
between us and our suitors."
"Quite. But what of the Princess here? You are very quiet, Your Highness."
"I have nothing to say, Your Grace," Tashi replied, still feeling Merl's gaze on her. Each time she glanced up, he was watching her with a strange look in 187
his eyes. Not fear, thank the Goddess, but speculation.
"My spies tell me you endured the ungentle persuasion of the priests of Holin and refused to
convert. The townsfolk are convinced you have demonic powers and that the escape was down
to your evil arts," Nerul said, examining her face for her reaction.
"Then the townsfolk are gullible fools." Tashi folded her hands together, taking the demure
stance of the Fourth Crown Princess in the Hall of the Floating Lily.
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"But it is useful to Fergox for them to believe this as it makes his lapse in security less glaring. He wants no hint of weakness about his rule. He argues that no one can protect themselves against
a demon on horseback."
Nerul drummed his fingers on the table. The girl gave nothing away. "He has vowed to burn you
at the stake in the town square when he catches you, you know, Princess."
"At least he no longer wishes to marry me. I should be thankful for small mercies."
Nerul frowned. "But what should I do with the pair of you, that is the question.
If Fergox gets wind of you being here, he will no longer ignore our presence in this damp corner
of his world. He has written us off as too difficult, content to box us in and cut off our lines of
communication when and where he can, but with you here, that all might change."
"There is a hundred thousand herald reward for your recapture, Princess,"
Merl added in his soft, smooth voice. "Only fifty thousand for you, Prince, I'm afraid."
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"I'm deeply offended," muttered Ramil, trying to catch Tashi's eye and make her smile. He was less worried now that he'd met Nerul as he felt certain that here was an honorable man.
Whatever Nerul decided about them, it would not be to betray them to the enemy.
Nerul stopped drumming, having come to a decision. "Your arrival here is obviously a problem
for us, but I would prefer to see it as an opportunity. I have before me representatives of the last
two free nations– the next targets on Fergox's list. Before you sits the head of a resistance
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movement that spreads far beyond this sorry-looking bog. I have relations with similar groups
throughout the Empire, even in Fergox's capital, Tigral. Fergox thinks he is invincible. He keeps
on expanding his rule but forgets about the people he has walked over. His slaves are so badly
treated they have little to lose and much to gain if they were to rise. We will not remain crushed
by his war machine, but we need arms and allies. Together we may be able to knock him from
his throne once and for all."
Ramil had no hesitation. "I know I speak for my father when I say that any assistance we can
offer your resistance will be yours for the asking. All I need is a method of communicating with
him and I am sure he will fulfill my words with deeds."
Nerul turned to the Blue Crescent Islander. "Princess?"
"Your Grace, you will know that I share the rule of my lands with my sisters so am not
empowered to undertake alliances without their agreement,"
Tashi said formally. "Also my current status is under question since 189
my abduction. I have no idea what steps have been taken either to restore me or to replace
me."
"Perhaps I can help you there," Nerul said. "I have an excellent source in King Lagan's court who keeps me well informed. The Blue Crescent were going to declare war on Gerfal but were
convinced by King Lagan that he was innocent in the matter of your abduction. The Princess
Briony is guest on your ships as a pledge of good faith. But as to what is happening in your court
at home, I have no idea, I'm afraid. I have insufficient funds to buy information from an Islander
and I have never yet succeeded in placing one of my own spies on Rama, more's the pity."
"No, that would be difficult," Tashi said, allowing herself a small smile of satisfaction. It was very hard indeed to imagine an Easterner successfully infiltrating the court, not least because they
would look like a duck among swans and be caught out at the first ritual. "If I am still recognized 196
as the Fourth Crown Princess, I promise I will ask my sisters to look favorably on your request."
"We could use your help at sea. That has always been our weak point. No rebellion can survive
starved of supplies. Speaking of which, I have been most deficient as a host. You have not eaten
or drunk anything since your arrival and we must repair the oversight. Come with me. We were
about to have supper and it's already laid in the room beyond."
As they relaxed after the meal with a glass of wine and a handful of hazelnuts, Nerul looked
thoughtfully at Tashi.
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"I think, Princess, that we should best keep it a secret that you have joined us–secret from our own people, I mean. As you are no doubt all too aware, some of them entertain strange ideas
about the Islanders and no one is above temptation. A hundred thousand heralds might test the
loyalty of even my most faithful men." He looked over at Melletin, who with Professor Norling
had joined them for supper. "Did you tell your men to keep their mouths shut?"
Melletin nodded. "I told them you would separate them from their manly pride if they squeaked
so much as a word."
Nerul grinned. "That's the least I would do to them. And I trust everyone in this room knows
how to keep a secret?"
Melletin and Norling murmured their assent.
"But won't they realize?" Tashi asked. "I don't exactly blend in." She gestured to her hair. No one in the East had such fair hair; the lightest color being a mousy brown.
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"I'm afraid it will necessitate a disguise on your part, Princess. If you would consent to wear the clothes of one of our ladies, you could dye your hair.
Professor, do you have something the lady could use?"
"Yes, yes, that's very simple. What color do you fancy?" Norling rifled through his bag.
"I suggest red," said Merl with a lingering look at Tashi. "Then we can say she is a distant cousin who has returned from her education abroad. This will both
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explain the accent and account for her escaping Fergox's purge."
"Then red it is. It will wash out, of course. I brewed it myself for our spies."
Norling placed on the table a vial of dark liquid.
Merl snatched it up before Tashi could take it.
"As we cannot risk allowing a maid to see you as you are, perhaps you would allow me to assist
you, Princess? We have a wash tent through here."
"I ... er ... I ... " Tashi tried to think of a polite way of refusing.
"It is no trouble and I'm sure you understand the necessity of not being seen about camp as you
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are," Merl continued smoothly.
Ramil fumed as he watched Tashi being led further into the family rooms of the tent. Nerul
gazed after the pair, his expression thoughtful.
"It seems my brother has taken a shine to our guest," he said, stretching his muscular arms
above his head and yawning.
"The Princess Taoshira is . . . was my betrothed," Ramil said hotly.
Nerul gave him a sharp look. "Is or was?"
Ramil rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. He no longer knew. "Our marriage plans were
interrupted by our unexpected jaunt to Brigard."
"Oh? My sources tell me that she had called the alliance off just prior to her disappearance,"
Nerul said lightly. "It seems to me that the young lady is free to choose her own partner now."
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