ng himself bepulled along by al-Buq at full gallop, his feet touching the earthlightly every dozen paces or so. Rebecca lifted her cloak off herhead and stared at Nazeera, her eyes large and dark in the starlight. The lower shelveswere filled with family valuables, including the jewellery that Rebeccahad inherited from her mother. The streets are not safe, Amber argued.
It cost him seventy-fiveMaria Theresas, the equivalent price-of two pretty Galla slave girls. What will the Dervish do with us? Nazeera did not answer at once but glanced significantly at Amber. r the trust that he placed in KhalifaAbdullahi: He is of me, and I am of him, the Mahdi had written in hisown hand. With a sinking feeling in the pit of hisstomach, he realized he could not reach them in time to rescue themall.
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