Khamwas let out his breath abruptly. “Sir,” he said to the caravan master, “I didn’t realize. Forgive me for intruding in your affairs.”
Tjainufi, who had disappeared when Star lifted light from the staff, now waggled an arm at Khamwas and said, “Do not say, *I am learned.’ Set yourself to become wise.”
Khamwas would have stepped by and continued up the alley, but Samlor restrained him with a gesture that would have become contact if the scholar had not halted, “You saved Star from a bad time before I got here,” he said. “And likely you saved me, besides distracting the little bastards. My name’s Samlor hil Samt.” He sheathed the little dagger behind his collar. “You and I need to talk.”
“All right. Master Samlor,” agreed the other man, though the way his lips pursed showed that the suggestion was not one he would have made himself. He gestured up the passageway, the direction from which the Cirdonian had come, and added, ‘There are more suitable places to discuss matters than here, I’m certain.”
“No,” said Samlor flatly, “there’s not.”
It wasn’t worth his time to explain that the direction in which Khamwas was headed would be a no-go area for at least the next hour. The passageway was narrow enough to be defended by one man, and both flanks were protected by masonry that would require siege equip- ment to breach. If their luck were really out, they could be attacked from both directions simultaneously, but that risk was better than being trapped in a cul-de-sac with no bolthole.
Given the nature of Sanctuary, this was probably the safest place within a league in any direction.