She breathed into a cloth soaked in rose oil as Sebastian had prescribed, but the smell of roses mixed obscenely with the smell of death and decay, causing her to retch. Many things were only words, sounds; she could not construct these words and sounds into objects; or, if she did, invariably missed the mark. Her eyes where glassy and shining. On that first occasion, the delay in locating the entrance to the secret passage meant that she had to wait until morning to make her search.
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