Chapter 73
The city, by night, was strangely quiet. The kind of quiet that I had come to know as a sort of calm before the storm. I could tell the night was not going to go the way I was hoping.
We walked fast, warpaint still streaked across our faces, hoping it made us look like eccentric rule-followers and help us fit in. Sim whistled a jaunty little tune as we went. I couldn't tell if he did it to keep the silence from suffocating us or if he was just enjoying himself.
Knowing him, probably the latter. Nothing seemed to affect Sim much.
The man had lost his ship and seemed to take it in stride.
The path twisted down through ancient trees and soft moss, half-overgrown with vines and shaded by leaves the size of sailcloths. Now and then, villagers passed by with scrolls tucked under their arms or baskets full of mushrooms and incense. They barely gave us a glance. Seemed the warpaint was working. Even though we weren't wearing loincloths like the rest of them.
