Slowly the wall split in two and the gates rolled back, permitting our entry into an enormous open area as misshapen and bleak as the rest of the city. I forced my chin higher, almost feeling Reena’s fingertips lifting it. Our caravan grew smaller as groups of soldiers veered in different directions now that they were home. We passed through another set of massive jagged gates, toothy iron bars mysteriously opening for us as if our arrival was anticipated. Rafe had to be questioning his promise to me now. We walked past endless jutting turrets, layers of twisted stone walls blackened with soot and age, slithering like a filthy living beast, a city built of ruin and whim. And that was exactly what they were to me. I knew he walked shackled somewhere behind me at the end of the caravan, prisoners, both of us -and Venda didn’t take prisoners. The gathering rattle of dry bones rippled through the crowd as they jockeyed to get a better look, strings of small sun-bleached heads, femurs, and teeth waving from their belts as they pressed forward to see me. Were they amused or sneering? And there was the jingle of skulls. The curious inched closer, peering at me with half-open mouths that revealed rotten teeth.
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