’ He stared at the point, glanced at the fallen sword imprisoned by her foot, and only just looked back at her weapon in time to see it thrust at him again. Capes had the gift of easy, unaffected writing, coupled with very clear and logical thinking, and to follow his written thought gave her the sensation of cutting things with a perfectly new, perfectly sharp knife. He lowered himself onto her and entered her slowly, an inch at a time. The spikes almost touched the upper part of the hatch: scarcely space enough for the passage of a hand being left between their points and the beam.
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