Chapter 17Mist gathered in patches along the street and in the alleys, making dense clouds here and there. The ground did not move perceptibly under Myril’s feet, but she didn’t trust it to stay where it was. There were plenty of people on the streets, but there was an eerie quiet as they spoke in whispers, if at all. The loudest sounds she heard were water bubbling, air blowing, and the distant bubble of lava at the place in the harbor where Anara’s tower had stood.
To judge by the smell of the air, any fires that Anara had lit that morning had been put out, and the damp would suppress any but the worst of them. A gentle, ordinary winter rain began to fall, and Myril hurried the rest of the way despite her reluctance to go back to the temple. The silence of the streets felt ominous.
The
