Chapter 1364

• The Scribe
• I’ve just hitched up my skirt. I’m kneeling and the hem is up at my buttocks, almost exposing them, but not quite. The familiar tingling anticipation sweeps over my flesh as I part my thighs, just a little, and lift one of the implements laid out before me. I always start with the smallest—the finest.
• I hold my breath and close my eyes, letting my head fall back, jaw slack, in the pose that signifies the begin- ning of my ritual.