74
Toriana awoke to the sounds of a farmer’s market being set up in the street outside the inn she was staying in. The local farmers had developed a custom of holding a three-day market to capitalize on the constant stream of shamans passing through on the way up to the festival, all of whom needed supplies for their time on the mountain.
She had not been troubled by any tremors during the night and this morning the earth was still. When Pansy entered and set her breakfast up for her, Toriana instructed her to pull back the curtains so she could see the sky, blue above, but dark clouds just peeking over the roofs across the road.
“Do you think it will snow, Pansy?” she asked her maid.
Pansy glanced out the window at the barely visible cloud bank. “Good morning, Your Majesty. It snowed
