In my dreams that night I found myself back in the necropolis under...Alessandro?
No-Alexandria, on the coast of Egypt.
Even that deep under the city, I could smell the sea.
My torch lit sculpted images of double-crowned snakes, carved from the bedrock walls around me.
I was carrying dead weight over one shoulder-an orphan, taken from the steps of the Serapeum above.
The deepest halls of the catacomb were partially flooded, and cold salt water tugged at the trailing folds of my cloak.
A groan of confusion, and the child at my shoulder struggled in vain against the effects of the mandrake root.
I was confident in my dosage-she wouldn't be able to rouse herself from her delirium in time.
No-what was I doing?
I jerked awake on a canyon floor, staring up at our stryders standing watch over us, flashing their blue lights into the darkness.
I swore I could still feel the dream-dagger strapped to my leg.