Chapter Twenty-Two
Degas dressed her in mourning weeds, the symbol of a widow. There was no other way to get Delila across the borders of New Victoria.
“Her husband was fighting in the Nether regions, this is her pilgrimage,” he told the patrol at the small crossing station. As was the custom, the official was inspecting the train going out of the country for contraband and escaping criminals.
“Taking a female citizen that deep into the other side is dangerous,” the border guard remarked.
“She’s aware of that, but has insisted that she take the risk. The government has approved her passport.”
“Good luck.” The man tipped his hat at the woman in the black veil. Such darkness! he was thinking, just barely making out the outline of a widow’s dark eyes and of course the raven hair beneath
