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

tugging against me tight like a net. A figure in brown linen flickered in the
corner of my eye, tugging a scarf tight to keep the dust from his nose and
mouth. Aside from that and the scattered pockets of civilians whispering
among themselves, the streets were mostly barren.
The silence unnerved me. Sigil was a bustling metropolis, and Ravel's maze a
labyrinth of singing vines and crooning plants. The starkness of Curst was
jarring, and every scratch or creak of a door had me on edge. It was a city of
traitors, and I could feel the knives pointed at my back already.
A two-legged, green-scaled bird pecked at a tuft of grass and a chirp
sounded from its throat.
"Trichas," Morte said, and that was all. Whether they were wild critters or
livestock I didn't know.
"Hey you!" a gravelly voice cried out, "Where the blazing Hells did you come
from? Don't you know there's a lockdown?"
"What can you tell me about this place?" I asked.
"We're under lockdown right now because of the plague. Don't know what's
causing it, but we're quarantining sections of the town 'til we find out. You
want something else?"
"Well... I AM looking for a deva."
The guard scoffed, "Then you're looking at the wrong end of the Great Ring,
berk, because even if there were one here, you'd not be finding it. It'd be
locked away like a miser's gold."
Annah was standing beside me, and with the barest movement she nudged
the side of my boot with hers. For a moment I almost checked my coin
pouch, when it hit me. In a town like this, you keep a span away from
anyone who looks at you, and give twice as much space for the guards. Who
knows what they would do?
Muffled noise from one of the alleys we walked past confirmed Annah's
suspicions.
"Where'd you hide it, Jansen?"
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