“Then again, maybe that was more than any person—any mortal, at least—should know. —From Promi’s journal Promi opened his eyes, though it didn’t make much difference. Everything was dark. So dark that his first thought was, No! I’m still in the dungeon. As before, he was lying on his back. And as before, there was something pointed pressing into the back of his head. He sat up, reached for the offending object—then realized that his hands could move freely. He wasn’t bound. And he wasn’t in the ...dungeon! He grabbed the object, a rock as before, and hurled it into the blackness. It clattered, rolling along what sounded like a lumpy, hard surface. A street, he realized. As his eyes adjusted to the dark, he could make out the bumpy rows of cobblestones, abandoned mud-brick houses on both sides, and what looked like some sort of structure beyond. All right, so I’m on a lonely side street in the middle of the night. But where exactly? And how did I get here? He scratched his head and pulled a clump of mud out of his long hair.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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