The Silver Rose

Начало книги

The winter night was dark; snow fell softly, covering the slimy cobbles in the narrow lanes, overlaying the filth in the kennels, creating a delicate white world that would last until the first footfall of dawn.

The small room under the eaves of Sam Begg's bakery on Distaff Lane was warmed by a brazier, lit by a dozen wax candles, the air fragrant with the smell of yeast and baking bread from the oven in the shop below. Sam's first customers would appear with the dawn, and the hot bread must be waiting for them.

"It wants but ten minutes before five." The man in a fur-lined chamber robe turned from the small diamond-paned window where he'd been watching the snow.

"When will I see you again?" The woman was dressing before the brazier, her fingertips clumsy with the cold despite the charcoal's heat. The question was simple enough but the voice was filled with a deep yearning akin to despair.

"When do you return to Ely?" He came over to her, taking her hands in his, chafing them. His hands were large, fitting his physique, and the woman's slender fingers disappeared in their grasp.

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