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In the Holy Lands the days and nights had been more equitable, Cadfael had decided within a month of his return. And he had grown used to it, he had to admit, to sleeping nearly as long in summertime as he did in the midst of winter. Not that he had slept through the night since he'd entered Shrewsbury Abbey. The offices broke the night into pieces, and in the short summer nights those pieces were small indeed. Even the abbot yawned sometimes, midverse, as they sang Lauds.

But on winter nights, even a monk had time enough to dream.