Sieper. Bits of the things she’d heard years ago in the marketplace were remembered. Rumors of his ability to read the weather surfaced. How could he possess such a talent? The Mistress touched women, never men. Did he serve the Lord of Shadows? He’d spoken of ownership and of her as being a reward from the Cabal. Had Sieper been one of the men who had lurked and awaited the arrival of the gray priests?
She sighed. Would she ever regain all the memories of the time before her capture?
She rolled the too long trouser legs and used a scrap of cloth torn from her gown as a belt. The sleeves of the shirt hung well below her hands and she pushed them up. How fortunate she’d been to find Sieper’s clothes on the line. As she’d fled through the alleys, she’d peered into the streets. The few women she’d seen had been escorted by one or even several men.
While she waited for true dark, she fingered the scar on her wrist. Her hand flew to her mouth and she stifled a scream.
An obese man, head shaved and scalp oiled, faced her. He held a metal rod with a serpent curled around the staff. A globe of swirling mist topped the rod. Her body trembled. The evil in the priest’s thoughts nauseated her. The serpent raised its head. The fangs bit into her wrist and sent molten fire through her veins. An endless scream echoed in her head and she sought darkness as she had before.
When Ashiera emerged from the place where night was eternal, a few stars shone in the sky. A pale sliver moon had risen. She struggled to her feet and exercised muscles stiffened by the cramped position.
Flee. Leave the city.
The urgency of the command made her lose all caution. “Who are you?”
The Place of Choosing. You must go there.
“Where is this place?