time for pointless altercations with any of the factions that governed the
night.
The animal pens of Corlas, the camel merchant, were on the shore of the White
Foal River just outside the Bazaar. According to rumor, it was one of the places
to avoid these days. The war between the two witches, Ischade and Roxane, had
made an unpredictable hell of the area, and half the residents had apparently
chosen sides.
Games, games, she sighed. Everybody plays. And who could tell-if things got dull
maybe she’d take a closer interest in the players. On the other hand, things
were looking anything but dull. Enas Yorl had surprised her in more ways than
one.
Unexpectedly, she heard voices behind her. She ducked into the nearest cranny
and crouched behind a barrel. Slops, to judge by the odor. She held her nose and
waited. A ragtag squad of men passed without noticing her. Most appeared to wear
swords, though a few carried only clubs. There was nothing disciplined about
them. They talked too loudly and swaggered as if they owned the night. She
suspected they’d all been drinking.
When they were past she resumed her journey. Quickly, she reached the bank of
the White Foal. The swiftly flowing surface caught her attention. Starlight
sparkled on the waves. The gentle lapping had an almost mesmerizing quality. A
strange emotion stole upon her, a mixture of fear and fascination, the same
sensation that had overcome her when she set foot upon her first boat and sailed
to Scavengers’ Island. Again, she remembered the voice of Savankala and the