” “I was turned shortly after the Pestilence, the plague that they call the Black Death. He seemed too noisy. You must have repented a little, or you would not have done that. He looked around, and as he heard that deafening shout,— as he felt the influence of those thousand eyes fixed upon him,—as he listened to the cheers, all his misgivings—if he had any—vanished, and he felt more as if he were marching to a triumph, than proceeding to a shameful death. The larger problem at hand was drugging her foster sister, Shari, into a deep sleep. That is my way, my dear.
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