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And before that, just as now, early mornings were filled with a creak in the roof, the chickens waking themselves up, and the sleepy bleating of the goats. In Dreil, there had been the dull-brass sounds of the work bells, men’s voices raised in anger or in song, the clattering of laden carts on loose cobbles, the grand shuddering groans of the waterwheels. The mornings were never quiet anymore, now.
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