The wound lay open for five seconds, and then closed neatly as if it had been stitched by invisible hands. “Your success here is absolutely meteoric. “These are the times that would make me glad to live forever, if only they lasted. “I regret that you should ever have proposed it,” he went on. But—but how?’ ‘Can you write?’ Gerald asked, digging into one of his capacious pockets and bringing out a leather ring purse. Then the bridge had arched gateways, bristling with spikes, and garnished (as all ancient gateways ought to be) with the heads of traitors.
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