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During the afternoon of the first day out from Rakholi, a thunderstorm breaks overhead and turns the rough trade road into a quagmire. For three hours the caravan is slowed to a walking pace before the torrential rain eases to a fine drizzle. The night camp is pitched on the open plain, and while you are rigging a simple shelter for yourself with rope and a canvas sheet, you hear something that causes you concern. It is the distraught sound of a woman crying. You detect that it is coming from Princess Mitzu’s carriage, and you hurry there to investigate what is wrong.
