「Holy City, Old Document Lane.」
The festive clamor washed over the Holy City's towering halls and wide squares like a tidal wave, yet it scarcely touched this dilapidated alleyway, curled up in the shadow of the Mountain City.
The faint scent of festival spices, the muffled music of a distant band, and the roar of cheering crowds drifted through the air, but none of it had anything to do with Bellardi.
He remained crouched on the threshold of a low-fronted shop, using a sliver of bleak afternoon light to mend a copy of the Lamb's Teachings. Its corners were riddled with moth holes.
Years of heavy drinking had dulled his nerves, leaving his fingers clumsy and trembling.
The foul, mingled stench from the depths of the alley had not dissipated for the celebration. In fact, it seemed to have grown even more complex and nauseating with the extra trash brought by the recent influx of people.
