By Sumit Chakraborty, Sushil Kumar Sharma, Asim Kumar Pal
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Still there was no answer. He waited. He knew that the real issue was not who claimed responsibility-if anyone did-but the simple act of forcing them to think again, to act like men. To throw off the yoke of this communal violence and remember who and what they were, and what God it was they served. At last a man stepped forward and faced the Patriarch. His face was streaked with sweat and blood and one side of his face was swollen. " He gestured toward the altar. "Look! Look at what they worship!
Estimate meant another interview about these damned pieces, more questions, always more questions . . and he couldn't begin to answer them because he didn't know why Calesta wanted these things made, only that he did. "I don't need an estimate," he said quickly. Trying to get the words out before he could have second thoughts. "Whatever it takes. Just make everything as much like the originals as you can. " She hesitated. " "Really expensive. " She showed him one of the sketches, her finger tracing the line of decoration on a breastplate.
The man who had been assigned to watch over the Forest had damned well better Divine well enough and often enough to foresee that his Master was coming home. " he asked shortly. The albino nodded. " His eyes sparkled redly. " "Excellent," he approved. And it was. A taste of normalcy, after so many months of tension. The albino bowed again. " Together they descended into the lightless depths of the keep itself, where even the moonlight was not allowed to intrude. Though the Forest outside was thriving, the building's interior had not done quite so well.
Algorithmic game : Privacy-preserving 1-n-p negotiation protocol by Sumit Chakraborty, Sushil Kumar Sharma, Asim Kumar Pal