Llewellyn was a bloody pirate. It looked like the sting from thevenomous tendrils of a Portuguese man-of-war. The silver leaves rained down over them glinting like newly mintedcoins as they spun and swirled in the sunlight. Lord of thestorm and the wind, he prayed, succour us.
She sat down on the low stone wall beside the pump, and was silent fora while. Schreuder had watched the fusillade,leaning heavily against a rock while his pounding heart and labouredbreathing slowed. Her eyes flewwide and all the colour drained from her face. He spilled the golden coins outonto the tabletop.
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