The sonorous tolling of the Telriand Bell echoed over the city, rolling down the cobbled streets to tremble in every darkened doorway and mist-shrouded alley. To those few wakeful souls who heard it, the sound signified one thing: Halfnight had fallen over Toval. For Laeress, though, it had another meaning. The Cloaked Hour, as it was known among the Reavers, had finally begun. It was time to move...
A vacant room. Nondescript, yet intuitively familiar. The ambient light has an operating-room quality. Antiseptic. But oh the sepsis that has festered in untold rooms like this one. Fostered and fed. Raging.