"Tell me, how is it that someone in the Drowned District has come to possess Dragon Silver?"
So not only was the bright light a mere single-material parlor trick, it was a parlor trick from someone who was able to afford it.
Clearly, the Shroud were not the poor and forgotten that they seemed to make out that they were.
"You there! In the cloak! If you really do represent this 'Shroud', why bother giving us maps, if you were planning on lighting up the whole damn sewer?"
This was bothering Andra as well. What kind of "Shroud" were they if they seemed to be OK with allowing everyone near a sewer grating exactly where they were?
She listened to the gibberish that poured from the man's lips in response to these questions, and began to swallow her doubts. Why bother with them? The Shroud had given them food and invited them to something different. Something bigger. Something better. For those surrounding her, death surely would be that option. Andra didn't want to die, but if all went badly, she still had a loaded gun and was easily mistaken for something ghastly in the dark.
As she filed into the tunnel behind the cloaked man, she sidled up to Langston, who had turned so pale that he could be mistaken for having no blood at all. She suddenly felt bad, imagining the stress and wounds on his feet must be getting to him, plus his nose... She smiled, almost grimacing with the effort and sharp pain, hoping it would make him feel better.
I imagine personalities like that are out of his league. "Do you think all of these Shroud fellows are that odd...?"
Langston fixed his eyes on her as if she had grown another head. "His hand was bare"
He pulled a parchment out of what seemed like nowhere and gave it to her. Baffled, she surreptitiously unrolled it, avoiding the attention of those around her.
A skull.
The skull on the hand of the man who gave her the parcel.
Gilliajlia preserve us all.
She rolled the parchment back up and tucked it into her dress. She could see that Langston was staring straight ahead, and she could almost hear his brain crackling. She almost turned to look back at the man who had lit up the water, but a sudden stab of terror made her keep looking ahead. She took another step, feeling the pistol's familiar weight knocking against the back of her ankle.
You may be using that pistol sooner than you had hoped, Andra. Keep alert.
So not only was the bright light a mere single-material parlor trick, it was a parlor trick from someone who was able to afford it.
Clearly, the Shroud were not the poor and forgotten that they seemed to make out that they were.
"You there! In the cloak! If you really do represent this 'Shroud', why bother giving us maps, if you were planning on lighting up the whole damn sewer?"
This was bothering Andra as well. What kind of "Shroud" were they if they seemed to be OK with allowing everyone near a sewer grating exactly where they were?
She listened to the gibberish that poured from the man's lips in response to these questions, and began to swallow her doubts. Why bother with them? The Shroud had given them food and invited them to something different. Something bigger. Something better. For those surrounding her, death surely would be that option. Andra didn't want to die, but if all went badly, she still had a loaded gun and was easily mistaken for something ghastly in the dark.
As she filed into the tunnel behind the cloaked man, she sidled up to Langston, who had turned so pale that he could be mistaken for having no blood at all. She suddenly felt bad, imagining the stress and wounds on his feet must be getting to him, plus his nose... She smiled, almost grimacing with the effort and sharp pain, hoping it would make him feel better.
I imagine personalities like that are out of his league. "Do you think all of these Shroud fellows are that odd...?"
Langston fixed his eyes on her as if she had grown another head. "His hand was bare"
He pulled a parchment out of what seemed like nowhere and gave it to her. Baffled, she surreptitiously unrolled it, avoiding the attention of those around her.
A skull.
The skull on the hand of the man who gave her the parcel.
Gilliajlia preserve us all.
She rolled the parchment back up and tucked it into her dress. She could see that Langston was staring straight ahead, and she could almost hear his brain crackling. She almost turned to look back at the man who had lit up the water, but a sudden stab of terror made her keep looking ahead. She took another step, feeling the pistol's familiar weight knocking against the back of her ankle.
You may be using that pistol sooner than you had hoped, Andra. Keep alert.