“I am the very best at that.” He catches my eye and grins. Even with the grim situation we’ve found ourselves in, he still manages to keep his sense of humor.
I’m still worried for him. “You feeling any better?”
He coughs. “Not at all, but as you can see, my wit has returned.”
“Darn. Was hoping you’d lose it.”
“No such luck.”
“Luck? We haven’t had much of that.”
“I don’t know. I think we’re doing quite well,” he quips, looking like a carriage rolled over him, with his black eyes, bruised face, and limp.
“Shut up and put on your cloak,” I say, throwing it over his shoulders, then pulling the hood forward to hide his bruised face.
There’s no sign of the guards, but that doesn’t mean trouble isn’t just around a corner. We can’t stay in the alley any longer. I support Dietan as he limps along like the drunken husband I claimed he was, barely able to match my pace.
Unlike when we arrived in Engel, these streets are filled with hawkers selling goods, which means we’ve found the market district. Tents are stacked with baskets full of fresh produce and salted meats. I hope we’re not far from the city gates. As we make our way through the market, I keep us off the main streets, trying to make sure I’m not walking too fast for Dietan. I’m worried about him, but I’m frustrated, too, so I pick up the pace, dragging him along by the elbow.
“You’re being awfully rough,” he complains.
“I haven’t slept.”
“Remind me never to keep you up all night,” he says as we round yet another corner. The city gates come into view at last. This would be good news, if it weren’t for the battalion of guards barring the exit.
“Shit.” I pull us back behind the corner and out of sight.
“Want to try to run for it?” Dietan asks, pinching his hood closed, covering his face.
“That’s your plan, oh master tactician? Just run and hope they won’t cut us down?”
Dietan shrugs.
“In your condition, I doubt you could even crawl.”
“Now that you mention it, running probably isn’t the best option.” He sighs again. “What else can we do? Have you considered that they might not recognize us and just let us out?”
I crane my neck and study the activity at the gate. “That’s not the issue. Our problem is that they’ve barred the gates. No one’s getting in or out. At least, that’s what it looks like.”
I try to imagine some way to get past the guards, but neither of us can fight.
We have no choice but to double back down the alley to find another way around. Maybe there’s a city gate that’s not as heavily guarded? Some back entry for servants or merchants?
Each time we turn a corner, there are guards stationed in front of a door, or the telltale sound of boots marching, heading our way. We backtrack the opposite direction, but there’s another battalion that way, too.
Finally, there is nowhere left to go.
There are no alleys or alcoves to hide in. We’ll be caught, and I doubt our shoddy makeshift disguises will be of any use then. I try not to despair, when I turn another corner and find a golden temple flanked by towering columns and colorful banners billowing in the hot desert wind.
“Psst!Aren! Over here!” a veiled acolyte whispers from the doorway.
Dietan and I look at each other, surprised and skeptical.
How would a sister at this temple know my name? Then I remember: the House of Healing. I glance at the crude map Bing handed me.
This is our chance.
As we cross the street, a group of guards rounds the corner, and I shove Dietan the last several paces through the temple’s open doorway. I rush in behind him as the veiled girl steps back into the entrance, her voluminous flowing robes hiding us from view.
