Tales From a Thousand Worlds

Carse let himself into the small place he had acquired, a building that was little more than a single roomed shack, set back from the river a way, in a part of the city where those who struggled to survive lived, yet had not succumbed to crushing poverty. The finery of his clothes would have stood out there like a gold coin in a beggar hand, and so he had wrapped himself in a voluminous cloak to disguise it, one old and worn, the hood of which was pulled over his head. To further mask his presence, to not appear as anything out of the ordinary, he had affected a slumped back and a limping gait.

Follow this link for Part Eleven of The Red Blade