Tay was eighteen in the year 685 of the First Era when he first saw Mournhold, the city of spires, home of the goddess. His cousin Kalkorith, already a senior initiate in the Temple, gave him a couple rooms on the ground floor of the house he had purchased. They were small and unfurnished, but bittergreen grew outside the windows, and when the wind blew, they filled his bedroom with a lovely spicy air. “You are very devoted to your cousin,” Acra laughed when Tay showed her the letter. “Am I looking at the last remains of a thwarted romance?” “Is she a very close cousin then?”