robe.
The assassin exploded towards him and Lalo scrambled frantically around the
table, snatching up more paint pots, brushes, anything he could throw. One of
them hit Zanderei’s forehead, and as paint sprayed across his face he hesitated
for just a moment to mop his eyes.
And in that moment Lalo kicked over the table and ran.
* * *
Lalo hugged his chest as if he could muffle the drumming of his heart and stared
around him.
He had confused memories of having fled down the corridor that edged the upper
half of the Presence Hall, towards the back of the Palace, down the stairs by
the dais, and then still farther, into a part of the Palace he did not know.
Though the floor was still marble, the slabs were cracked and discolored, and
plaster was chipping from the wall. Then he heard crockery clattering nearby and
realized he must be hard by the kitchens.
At least, he thought gratefully, Zanderei the Commissioner would be even more
out of place here than he. Cautiously he turned into another passageway and
moved forward. But as he eased open the door at the end of it, he heard once
more a faint pattering behind him-the steps of one who from long training ran so
lightly his footfalls were only a whisper of fine leather on polished stone.
Stifling a moan, Lalo burst through the door, dashed across the wooden floor and
the platform that opened out onto the kitchen courtyard, and flung himself into
the first concealment he found.
It had looked like a cart, and as Lalo sank into its contents he realized what