Chapter 42On the day appointed for Jaldaric’s execution, the very elements themselves seemed to reflect the new turmoil within the City. An unseasonable wind whipped and buffeted the streets, flapping through the market stalls, blowing petals from the innumerable floral displays that still decorated the colourful houses, and shaking the milling crowds.
Only in the darkest corners of the City did there linger any of the stench that had emanated from the funeral pyre of Dan-Tor’s workshops.
Overhead, tattered streams of clouds blew relentlessly from the north as if pursued by some demon, though higher still, the sky was blue and calm and the sun shone warm.
The crowds, too, were unusual: restless and noisy, roaming the streets, then becoming quiet and patient, hovering expectantly near th
