Prelude
She woke to the noise of dogs—two distinct barkings beneath her open inn window. A high-pitched yip confronted a deep, throaty growl. Alias lay on the tan-stained cotton sheets and pictured a long-haired puppy cast out from its wealthy owner's household, fending off some huge boxer or Vassan wolfhound.
As with men and other savage races, the show of force was as important to the dogs as force itself. The yipping canine was overmatched, yet its barking went on for what seemed to Alias an eternity. Finally, the dog with the deeper growl reached the end of its patience and snarled savagely. The sound of toppling trash brought Alias fully awake.
She opened her eyes, listening for a dying squeal from the smaller dog, but surprisingly the next thing she heard was a series of deep yelps from the large dog. The sound faded away as the large dog fled from the window.
Alias threw off the light blanket and swung her feet to the floor. She rose and immediately regretted it. Her head felt as though molten lead had been poured behind her eyes, and her mouth was as dry as the sands of Anauroch.
She blinked in the reddish light. Is it dawn or twilight she wondered. Pressing the heels of her palms into her eyes, she yawned. Through the open window, the sea breezes from the Lake of Dragons wafted into the room, along with the far-off cries of fishermen returning with their catch.
Twilight, then, she decided. She shook her head, trying to clear the cobwebs. Must have slept through the day, she thought. When did I get here For that matter, where's here And what was I doing before I came here
Alias snorted derisively. What she'd been doing was obvious. This wasn't the first time she'd awakened in a strange place after a drunken celebration.
Nonetheless, her surroundings seemed familiar. The inn was built in the same fashion as a hundred others at this end of the Sea of Fallen Stars, and her room held the typical trappings a bed cobbled together of a mixed pile of wood, topped with a straw tick and sheets that hadn't been aggressively washed in months; a small second-hand dressing table; a single straight-backed chair draped with her armor and clothing; a small rag rug at the foot of the bed; a brass oil lamp chained to the table; a chamber pot; and a single door. The window, inset with colorless circles of crown glass that let in the light of the setting sun, opened inward on side hinges that creaked lightly in the breeze.
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She woke to the noise of dogs—two distinct barkings beneath her open inn window. A high-pitched yip confronted a deep, throaty growl. Alias lay on the tan-stained cotton sheets and pictured a long-haired puppy cast out from its wealthy owner's household, fending off some huge boxer or Vassan wolfhound.作者: mhkg7936 时间: 2011-12-2 09:05