“We’re goin’ to Renewal Night?”
Azhur smiled, revealing the plan already hatched with Galdtchav. “Of course. You don’t think I’d bring my friend to Valderthaan and let him miss Renewal, do you?” He wheeled his horse round into the morning traffic, towards the broad way that rose from the square, clinging on its right to the island’s exposed primal rock and guarded on its left by an ornate wall.
Tyr followed, eager for the splendours of the upper city. He cast a last fascinated glance back at the beggars but pulled his horse up short. Then he froze, half-turned as he was. Among the living bundles of rags beneath the crumbling statue, a young woman sat, her thin face bent towards the baby in her arms. She had wrapped the child in cloths as clean as she could make them and was feeding it at
