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NAVICHET: (reaching for the soup ladle and filling a bowl) Obliged.

GALLOT: And several fruits I grew and pickled myself, from the ravine. You’ve probably not had their like. Some strange teas from the trader who comes to north-gate. O yes and Chendry’s got his cloying beer, of course.

(Navichet drinks from the bowl of soup, spoon and ladle left on the tabletop. She looks out at the others)

Comic Version