Page 204GALLOT: 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) |
  
|
 |