She had found a couple of articles about him over the years, blurbs about the opening of a theater that mentioned him. She was carefree. . People were not slaves to their gods as they are now, oppressed and unhappy, chained to their mortality and suffering so that they may one day enter an imaginary Heaven. Automatically, she glanced at the slight red graze left on her neck that marked the point where Gerald’s sword had nicked her. ’ ‘Where are we going?’ ‘Back to Blaye, my girl. Even now she could trace the outline of his shape behind the left-hand curtain. The man had favoured him with a brief nod, but the girl had gone so far as to offer a tiny smile, and a look under her lashes with which not even Gerald, for all his scant interest in female society, could fail to be familiar.
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