FLASHBACK TO THE DAY OF THE MARKET SCENE…
The market square was quieting down as the sun dipped lower, the frantic energy of the day settling into a dull, tired hum. The stall owners were packing away their wares, counting their coins, and gossiping about the strange scene they had witnessed—the noblewoman, the blind priestess and a prophecy.
In a quiet, shadowed alcove behind a spice merchant's tent, Marissa stood waiting. She tried as much as possible not to look like a Grand Duchess in silk and jewels. She was dressed simply, her face hidden by the brim of a wide hat. She watched the street with the patience of a spider sitting in its web.
A woman approached. She was walking briskly, her step light. She had shed the heavy, grey robes of the "priestess." She wore a plain, colorful dress, her hair tied back in a cheerful scarf. She carried a wooden staff, but she no longer leaned on it like an old crone. She swung it like a walking stick.
