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Hello everyone.

I'm your host Faith McQuinn and this is Epic.

On the dying winds of the old year and the birthing winds of the new, episode three.

I hope you enjoy it.

Late in the afternoon, when she had gone into the garden to harvest fresh shoots for the slip-fry, Zubidit strolled into the garden, her hair braided and coiled up atop her head,

and an undied cotton talus,

suitable for the ghost days,

tightly wrapped around her lithe body.

My rose and kissed her,

holding her dirty hands away from the cloth,

then said,

You have something you want to say to me in private about Tessia.

Instead of replying, Zubidit raised a hand, cautioning silence.

Boots thumped on the walkway.

Reeve Padonin trotted down the steps and strode across the walled garden.

...