I turn my attention to the occupants of the upper level. Even here, people huddle in tight, familiar groups. Most are ignoring the entertainment. Not just actors and acrobats but three cages, lit by floating lanterns, reveal lions that prowl and snarl and snap at passersby. Some few partygoers are using Will to float scraps of meat almost within range of the creatures, only to snatch them away again at the last second to too-raucous, uneasy laughter. Diago, as if as disgusted as I feel, growls at the sight. “Rotting gods,” murmurs Relucia, disdain dripping from her tone as she watches the same
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