A sudden downpour pounded the dusty road, turning ruts into rivulets and washing ash into tides of mud. Marin Ashveil huddled beneath the stretched canvas of Elias's command tent, water slapping the taut fabric overhead. The caravan ground to a halt at the mouth of a narrow mountain pass.
“Not safe to continue," Elias shouted over the wind to Captain Varric, who peered through the torrent. Varric's braided beard dripped, plastering against his chest. “We'd be sitting ducks in the open."
Elias nodded, eyes narrowed beneath his hood. “We seek shelter—any roof."
A scout called from the front: “A ruined cathedral ahead, my lord. Columns half-standing, walls cracked, but the roof's intact." He shivered. “A fitting refuge."
Marin rose on unsteady legs, manacles clinking. Rain plastered her c
