She could feel it like a hard, withered apple, and reflexively touched it through the cloth from time to time to reassure herself it was still there.Ī leather satchel hung over one shoulder, stuffed mostly with notes and plans, a few chunks of hardtack, a purse of platinum chits and assorted precious stones, and one small, curious device.
Blackblood weighed heavy on her back, the Scalvert’s Stone tucked in one of her inner jacket pockets. She had broken camp in the predawn dark, and her long legs had eaten up the final few miles. Here and there, a copper-clad steeple flashed in the sun. The city of Thune bristled up from a bed of fog that hazed the banks of the river bisecting it. Viv stood in the morning chill, looking down into the broad valley below.
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