Jenny: Tin-Blue Sky

At that moment Artos' chestnut mare, a sort of apple-leaf flicker of ruddy bronze in the light, spooked at a large bee which had come out of the late clover into her face, and leapt into the air, turning a pretty circle and cantering away, giving a shrill, plaintive squeal of protest. As she ran, the cock of her tail gave away her southern breeding. Kay watched her go before turning back to the Irishman, who had given away his ethnicity by his oath.

"I'm sure you could," he said, smiling coolly. He put a boot up on the first rung of the fence in a gesture of ownership.


The Guttersnipe looked up from wringing out her hair. She had not expected Domitia to say much of anything, and the question, which she had not entertained herself, surprised her. Up the northeastern end of the little glen were the coppery hills and the tin-blue sky - and beyond those, the Fox somewhere, and Vortigern waiting in his hall for news of how things went.

"I don't know about back," she said, lifting herself up to the balls of her feet. "But they are not finished. The world is not big enough for Votigern and my lord Ambrosius together."

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