A Chapter as written by Avienda

The camp was hidden in the shadow of a steep hill but they had found it anyway. The same hill that served to hide it was the same one they were surveying it from. The two scouts that found it were laying flat on their stomachs in the grass along the ridge. So far they couldn’t come to an agreement.
“Five fires mean fifty men, give or take a few. It is a military standard that any man should know. They would be idiots to make more fires than they need. Too much unnecessary work and firewood.” ...

The big man stopped and grabbed at his neck. His face turned purple and he started clawing his throat like he wanted to make an opening. The brute's eyes rolled up in his head and he fell to the floor with a heavy thud, revealing Myth standing behind him.
"Took you long enough." Avienda told her.
"It takes longer for me to work with my hands tied behind me." Mytherceria answered patiently. "Let me have a look at you now. I swear you are always getting bloody." ...

The Drunken Maid was docking now and a homely blond from inside the Blue Sailor brought Avienda her meal. She dug into the bowl of chowder as she watched the dock master approach the ship for inspection and taxation. Tersan's harbor was large and the docks were always busy. Sailors weren't the only ones filling the port. She could see three taverns and two brothels from where she ate her clam chowder. Some of the whores were out and about advertising their wares. Carts filled with pies and sweets ...

Avienda ignored the stench of the alley. Alleys were always an unpleasant place to do business.
"Who is getting paid?" She asked sweetly.
"I'm not sure." The man opposite her said gruffly.
She knew him to be a difficult man to deal with. He never liked to give away information, not even for coin. He would horde it like a packrat. Avienda snorted. What good was information unless you sold it or used it. It was really quite endearing of John though that he ...

Visions danced in and back out of her mind, some familiar and some seeming to belong to someone else. She dreamt of landing in a thistle-bush and a thorn the size of her dagger pierced her shoulder joint. Next her ribs screamed at her as she emptied tankards of ale in a tavern. Men of all sorts filled the tables and she was trying to decide which scarred-up face was sexier. Her chair fell back and she was flying. She wore pale skin under a dark bloody robe and whispered to the long reeds growing ...