(Scars do not appear to be cause of death –shock ... - Bad Request

Chapter 66
I had often seen the palace of the Society of Sensation, piercing the sky and
shimmering with colored glass like a tantalizing beacon across the entire
Ward. Its buttresses curled around the towers and shyly linked one pinnacle
to another. It was for more than support: they acted like the lace of a
woman's gown, or at the cuff of a gentleman's sleeve, accenting and
enlarging, making the whole building look all the greater. The barest corner,
most hidden-away window, the plainest wall or support beam was more
than utilitarian. No, the whole building breathed with art.
"The planning of it took decades," Fall-From-Grace had said, and her words
came with a pedagogical tone, "And a century more to build. It took all that
time to find the dozens of different kinds of stone, the hundreds of kinds of
glass. Just counting all the kinds of cloths and banners would take years,
woven by the hands of artisans across so many planes you could string them
together like pearls."
If dancers and performers were abundant in the Clerk's Ward, this was
where they made kip. Music haunted each corner. The motions of twirling,
twisting bodies snagged the eye like a hook. The walls were of so many
textures and were carved in so many sultry shapes they begged to be
touched. Kiosks and stands were set apart just enough to give the
performers plenty of room, and the smells of spiced delicacies made me
wish we hadn't just eaten.
"Marinated snails, sir?" a slip of a girl asked me, holding out a tray of them
still in their shells, "Fresh from the gardens of Thyrydin and the Kliggan
Woods, and buttered with eight herbs from across three planes. Two silver
pennies for a taste."
Okay, maybe not.
I was like a desert dweller, suddenly and inexplicably terrified by the
lushness of the forest, afraid of the rich mysteries cupped in each shadow.
But familiarity plucked at my soul and I answered the call, which was the
sound of celebration.
The streets and walkways were broad enough, however, to permit the
nobles to mingle freely while peddlers (a crude term for people selling such
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