“Her uncle says that we’re not inside yet,” Samlor stated without particular emphasis. “And he’ll see about getting there.”
Without speaking further to his companions, the Cirdonian walked to the comer of the building.
Setios’s house was two feet away from the building beside it. There were no ground-floor windows in the sidewall either, but the second story was ventilated by barred openings.
Samlor stepped through the gap, too narrow to be called an alley anywhere but in the Maze. He ignored his companions, though they followed him gingerly in lieu of any other directions.
The vertical bars of the window above him were thumbthick and set with scarcely more room than that between them. Star might have been able to reach through one of the spaces, but the caravan master was quite certain that his own big hands would not fit.
“Are there going to be things like that door-monkey waiting by the windows?” Samlor asked the other man quietly. He nodded upward to indicate the opening he had studied.
Khamwas shrugged in darkness relieved only by the strip of clouded sky above them. “I would expect human servants if anything,” he said. “They’re . . . more trustworthy, in many ways. And from what I’ve gathered, Setios is a collector the way I’m a scholar. Neither of us, you understand, are magicians of real power.”
He paused and tucked his lip under his front teeth in doubt, then added, “The way your niece here appears to be, Master Samlor.”
“Yeah,” said the caravan master without emotion. His left hand tou- sled Star’s hair gently, but he did not look down at the child. “And he collected a demon in a bottle, among other things.”