After a few hundred feet the houses on both sides ended, and the street, getting steeper, became a path. On the left side, if you walked up, carved into the mountain, was a row of caves, one next to the other — underground stalls that had been shops where on sunny days a steady stream of cheerfully jostling, laughing, shouting visitors, but also more quiet townspeople on a stroll up to the castle gardens, had bought refreshments, candies, shawls, hats, bags, local artwork, antiques and cheap jewelry fake and real, and, generally speaking, useful or useless trinkets of all kinds. Now only a few of those stalls were open, the rest either had their heavy iron-studded doors firmly locked and shut, or had been deprived of their doors, leaving bare gaping holes in the rock, most of them with their walls black from fires that had consumed the shelves, the merchandise, and, it was to be feared, also the merchants. Holes that showed the dimensions of those stalls, about six feet wide, maybe. He raised his hand towards her mouth; his index touched her chin, went down its curve to her belly button, and then both their hands were fumbling with her buttons, and then... James slipped a hand inside her underwear. She stopped breathing, for a second. His finger felt its way up and down, slowly. It was so soft. It was so hot. She swallowed. He started moving faster, and faster, and Ester’s mind lost itself more. She dug her heels in the earth; she leant back with a spasm, losing control, mouth open to the sky. A bat, a dark, fast shadow, flew by in a blur, and Ester trembled. Night had practically fallen now, but the clouds were giving off a white glow in the blue darkness. He interrupted himself to kiss her again, and then they fell unto the ground, and then James’ underwear was off too, and they came up against the wall of the ruins. She moved with him, slowly, softly, and the moan rose until it escaped out of her in sounds of ecstasy. She felt him filling up space that.
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