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- It was already burning hot in the desert between Klatch and Hersheba. The air shimmied, and then there was a pop. Albert appeared on a sand-dune. There was a clay-brick fort on the horizon.
- 'The Klatchian Foreign Legion,' he muttered, as sand began its inexorable progress into his boots. Albert trudged towards it with the Death of Rats sitting on his shoulder.
- ***
- Soul Music - p199
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