Her fingers clutched the side of the door as though to steady herself. "Now's your time," cried Blueskin, struggling desperately with his assailants and inflicting severe cuts with his knife. "Let me see the earth thrown over her," implored Jack; "and take me where you please. Many’s the young ’un I’ve seen get hisself into just such a knuckleheaded mess all on account of a pretty wench. She slept in a bedroom clad in linens and skins, walked down hallways bedecked in the most gay and colorful frescos. Her hair had become so matted that Sebastian had sheared it off, which made her the very mirage of a nubile young boy.
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