flesh and gnawing at it; animal heads on human bodies, or vice versa; limbs that
went gangrenous, rotted, fell off, regrew, while their owners walked about with
placid looks that said nothing was wrong, nothing at all-
Harran is down here now, Mriga thought. How will we find him? Roasting in his
desire for Siveni, eaten away by his guilt over the way he used me once? Or were
those passions so recent that they never quite took root in his soul-so that we
might find him like one of the dull ones who don’t care about anything? Suppose
he… doesn’t want to come back….
The four of them passed through the Bazaar. They went hurriedly, for they found
it peopled with beasts that milled about with seeming purpose, crying out to one
another in animals’ voices, neighs and roars and screams. But the wares being
hawked there were human beings, chained, dumb, with terrible pleading eyes. The
four went quickly out into the south road that followed the walls of the
Governor’s Palace. “Since all this is mirroring Sanctuary somewhat,” Siveni
said, peering around her by the light of her spear, and looking harrowed, “I
would suppose that the one we’re looking for is in the Palace.”
“So would I,” Ischade said, quite calm. “The south gate is closed.”
Mriga noticed that on Ischade’s far side Tyr had dropped back to pace beside
her, gazing up at her with a peculiar expression.
“What exactly is your arrangement with her?” Mriga said, as softly as she could
and still be heard above the constant low rumor of pain that filled the streets.