"Dark Elf? Great. I'm sure you'll fit right in." The soldier beamed. Nadene plodded past in her cloth shoes already damp from the cloying air. The wind pulled at her prison rags. The inside of the excise office was at least warm. But even as the chief agent drolled on with his questions, a timer was running. They sent me to this bog to die.

"Very good. The letter that preceded you mentioned you were born under a certain sign. And what would that be?"

"Um." Nadene tried to still her mind. "The Serpent."

When she was a child, her father had read to her from a special book.

"The Serpent wanders about in the sky and has no Season, though its motions are predictable to a degree."

"Predict this," she cried, and squeezed his nose. He gasped in mock outrage and tickled her until they were both exhausted.

"Someday you'll wander off and have adventures," he said. "Maybe you'll visit me, right?"

"Read the rest, da."

He grabbed the book and flipped back. "No characteristics are common to all who are born under the sign of the Serpent. Those born under this sign are the most blessed..."

"Ooh." Nadene traced her finger across the drawing of the snake. "Why'd you stop?"

Her father hesitated. "The most blessed, and the most cursed."

"Interesting." The clerk handed over his report. "Now before I stamp these papers, make sure this information is correct."

Her eyes ran over the lines, heart frozen in dread. She mutely returned the scroll to be stamped.

"Show your papers to the Captain when you exit to get your release fee."

She walked away stiffly. As her hand gripped the door to the outside, a cold certainty seized her: I'm going to die here. I'm sorry, da. I failed.