When the two women emerged from the palace gates, the rain began to pour even harder. They rushed to the carriage, where Emilian was already waiting with the stool down, holding another umbrella. He was too preoccupied trying to keep dry to notice that the women's faces were drawn and pale. As soon as they ducked inside, he picked up the stool and stored it before he picked up the reins. They trotted swiftly through the streets, which were mostly empty due to the long, cold rainstorm. The horse's feet clumped through the puddles, and the wheels cut two tracks through the thin layer of mud and muck that covered the cobble. The entire city seemed to be shrouded in a gray dreary curtain.