It always held a message about what crime the people hanging by their necks had performed to deserve such a fate. She walked closer until she was only...a few feet from the paper. It was much easier to read this way. Of course, the words were written in the common form, not the voice-legible Litides. She nearly had to pour her voice at the individual letters just to see what they were. With the speed of a forming mountain, she managed to read what the note said. 15th Veer, 744 Bear witness, folk. "How's it going?" asked Roland cheerfully. He was the old man who'd organised the soup kitchen in Lancaster after thugs had burnt down a similar enterprise in London. This was an inferno in which dozens of helpless patients were incinerated. As Roland frequently reminded Odile and the others who occasionally worked for him, things might be bad in Lancaster but they were much worse in London. Odile wondered whether Roland was just saying that to comfort people who usually saw a capital city on. More

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