27
GOING HOME
Syrina tried not to let Anna’s wonder at Eheene get to her; tried not to think about what came next. Winter fire slashed the twilight in hues of green the evening they steamed into the docks at the Foreigners’ District, mixing with the blue-white aura of naphtha light shining over the wall that separated the District from the city-proper.
The journey had been uneventful. Surprising, considering the turmoil that had enveloped the world south of Skalkaad. Syrina had dressed as a Skaald low merchant’s daughter for the trip, run away to Fom, now going home because of the war. She told Anna it would explain both their destination and their wealth. To the few who’d asked, she said that her hand was the result of her ignorance—scalded to the bone by a steam vent less than a week
