CHAPTER TENRavina shivered violently as the attic room grew colder and colder.
The thin slivers of light that had shone in around the tiny window had long vanished. Night had fallen and with it had come the storm.
An oil lamp hung from the rafters and she was glad of the faint yellow beams it threw out.
She could hear heavy rain beating on the roof and knew there were trees close by because she could hear the wind whistling through the branches.
When Ravina pressed her ear against the shutters, there was the sound of running water – obviously a river or stream close by.
The oil lamp had been lit an hour earlier by a hard-faced woman who had carried in a small metal tray holding a pitcher of water, a bowl of roughly torn bread and a hunk of stale cheese.
Ravina had stared at her in am
