The interior was sectioned into smaller pens. She listened for sounds. Even the
camels seemed at rest. But … was that the glow of a small fire?
She stole up to the gate and laid a hand against the rough wood. Only guile
would open it without attracting half the rowdies in the city. And guile wasn’t
one of her more reliable talents. Daxus was a man, though, and if she’d learned
nothing else, she knew she could count on his basest instincts.
She removed her cloak, then shed her tunic, careful not to mislay a thin metal
probe secreted up her right sleeve. She hugged herself, wondering about her
trousers and boots. Damn, it was cold! Already, she was covered with gooseflesh.
Still, if Daxus was suspicious he might want a better look. Cursing silently,
she gazed up and down the street and slipped off the rest of her garments.
Lastly, she propped her sword against the wall close at hand.
Then she pounded frantically on the gate. “Help!” she cried in a tight whisper.
“Please let me in! My husband will kill me! Help!” She beat the wood with the
flat of her hand, shooting glances around, hoping no one else would hear.
A narrow portal slid open a bare fraction. No face appeared, but a voice
whispered back. “Who’s that? I don’t want no trouble. Go away.”
The portal started to slide shut, but Chenaya shoved her finger into the
aperture. “Wait!” she begged. “You’re Daxus. I’ve seen you before. Please, let
me in before my husband finds me. He beats me, but this time I ran away. He
chased me across Caravan Square, but I lost him. He’ll catch up, though. Please,