Fog drifted through the courtyard, transforming the torches in their
fixed stanchions on the nearby walls, into glowing orbs like spirits,
or like the moon above. Aye, the spirit of the moon was upon the land
tonight, the spirit of madness. Gloomily, Si'Wren reflected that the
celebrants were to be spared the sight of the slain young woman's body.
Of course! That would spoil their fun. Such must never be even dreamed
of. Si'Wren wiped ineffectually at her tears, smearing her wet cheeks.
What should she do?
She stared at the wreckage of the spice tent, and wondered helplessly
if she was expected to spend the entire night if necessary cleaning it
up. No one had said anything about what was to be expected of her now.
Should she abandon her work, or what?
Close by, she suddenly heard extremes of laughter. Abruptly she turned
from the wrecked tent and walked toward the rear gate. When she
arrived, she found it guarded by two brawny slaves standing beneath the
torches of the closed and barred gate. They ignored her contemptuously,
no doubt having already been informed of her evil belief in the
Invisible God, and of her complicity in the destruction of the
priceless green jade goddess.
She turned and walked back through the grounds toward the front,
turning aside into the shadows whenever possible to avoid meeting
others.
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