Nadya Booyse

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When a human doctor, after much bleeding and cupping, finds that a patient has died out of sheer desperation, he can always say, ‘Dear me, will of the gods, that will be thirty dollars please,’ and walk away a free man. This is because human beings are not, technically, worth anything. A good racehorse, on the other hand, may be worth twenty thousand dollars.
Feet of Clay (Discworld, #19)
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