OGEM centrifugal pump and vacuum degasser used in solids control process

“I like a woman with a good tight grip.”
　　She snorted. “I’d not have thought it, by that wench on the waterfront.”
　　“You must not judge me by her. She was the only woman on the ship.”
　　“Tell me of your father. Will he welcome me kindly to his castle?”
　　“Why should he? He scarcely welcomed me, his own blood, the heir to Pyke and the Iron Islands.”
　　“Are you?” she asked mildly. “It’s said that you have uncles, brothers, a sister.”
　　“My brothers are long dead, and my sister . . . well, they say Asha’s favorite gown is a chainmail hauberk that hangs down past her knees, with boiled leather smallclothes beneath. Men’s garb won’t make her a man, though. I’ll make a good marriage alliance with her once we’ve won the war, if I can find a man to take her. As I recall, she had a nose like a vulture’s beak, a ripe crop of pimples, and no more chest than a boy.”
　　“You can marry off your sister,” Esgred observed, “but not your uncles.”
　　“My uncles . . .” Theon’s claim took precedence over those of his father’s three brothers, but the woman had touched on a sore point nonetheless. In the islands it was scarce unheard of for a strong, ambitious uncle to dispossess a weak nephew of his rights, and usually murder him in the bargain. But I am not weak, Theon told himself, and I mean to be stronger yet by the time my father dies. “My uncles pose no threat to me,” he declared. “Aeron is drunk on seawater and sanctity. He lives only for his god—”
　　“His god? Not yours?”
　　“Mine as well. What is dead can never die.” He smiled thinly. “If I make pious noises as required, Damphair will give me no trouble. And my uncle Victarion—”
　　“Lord Captain of the Iron Fleet, and a fearsome warrior. I have heard them sing of him in the alehouses.”
　　“During my lord father’s rebellion, he sailed into Lannisport with my uncle Euron and burned the Lannister fleet where it lay at anchor,” Theon recalled. “The plan was Euron’s, though. Victarion is like some great grey bullock, strong and tireless and dutiful, but not like to win any races. No doubt, he’ll serve me as loyally as he has served my lord father. He has neither the wits nor the ambition to plot betrayal.”
　　“Euron Croweye has no lack of cunning, though. I’ve heard men say terrible things of that one.”
　　Theon shifted his seat. “My uncle Euron has not been seen in the islands for close on two years. He may be dead.” If so, it might be for the best. Lord Balon’s eldest brother had never given up the Old Way, even for a day. His Silence, with its black sails and dark red hull, was infamous in every port from Ibben to Asshai, it was said.

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