She tried to compose her thoughts, to think of the last six months, to steep herself in the calm beauty of the surroundings. She was still good at following orders. When it came time to eat once again, she hid out on the beach, a remote fastness beyond the city walls, a swampy morass that everyone avoided. She hated being angry, the uselessness of it all, the frustration. ‘I suppose he isn’t this Leonardo you spoke of?’ ‘Certainly he is not Leonardo. Saviour's Stairs. He drifted in and out of consciousness.
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