Balthaar had picked the way least known to his kind but instead of mapping out the paths, he watched his guide, who appeared utterly caught up in her own aimless meanderings, darting here and there to snatch a flower, cradling it to her face before spinning then flinging it out, past the edge of the stone walkway to plummet to the ground, far below. Balthaar had no doubt from the behavior of the malevolent gardener as well from the glowering of the green-skinned Elsyrian, that his identity of general was well-known. They had him in their city, at their mercy, so why continue the charade? Every time she called him Viceroy, his heart beat harder. Each time she came close to tumbling over the edge, he had to clench his hands to keep from reaching out for her hand. The words of the blue-skinned man, Hortham taunted him. Had the Bashai taken her? Were they the cause of her madness? The gardener's glower cut into Balthaar’s back, clearly conveying his near outrage at the general’s presence.
