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To Nancy, who also knows all the seasons of the Heart ONCE more toward evening Adai the Jestan toiled slowly up the wide, curving stone steps to the highest tower. The cupped wear in the limestone made her hug the right wall, her ringed hand clicking on the stone. The two guards flashed knowing glances at one another as she arrived at the station. "No sign yet, Jestana," said the taller. "Nothing but clear river. But before the week is out, the Sentani will come." "The Sentani," she murmured, leaning over the north wall. The trees, save the oaks, were largely bare already, and their brown, clinging leaves were soon to go. The wind was chill, and the sunset glowed brick red from under the edges of a thick layer of cloud. The dry grasses on the high tops of the river bluffs lay down before the wind. Far to the west, across the river and beyond the swamps, a prairie fire near the horizon |
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