Also tonight there was no appreciable wind at ground level, which meant that - in the absence of any traffic - the canal, though still free of ice, was perfectly still and soundless, with no slap of wave or gurgling surge. The snow made it seem hushed, he supposed, muffling what little sound there was. He stopped and lifted his head, sniffing at the air.
He could hear his own footsteps as they sank into the untouched whiteness. It was a quiet area of the city at almost any time, Kabe knew, but tonight it both seemed and was quieter still. The horizontal surfaces of the canal's paths, piers, bollards and lifting bridges bore the same full billowed weight of snow, and the tall buildings set back from the quaysides loomed over all, their windows, balconies and gutters each a line edged with white. The barges lay on the darkness of the still canal, their lines softened by the snow heaped in pillows and hummocks on their decks.
Chapter One: The Light of Ancient Mistakes
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