“Wrap her in the cloths from the pallet. You must carry her—and bear her gently, swine!”
Boghaz scurried to obey. Ywain was obviously furious at the indignity but she held her tongue on that score.
“We are escaping them?” she asked.
“We are leaving Khondor to its fate,” Carse gripped the sword. “I would be in Sark when the Sea Kings come that I may blast them myself, with my own weapons!”
Boghaz covered her face with the rags. Her hauberk and the hampering chains were hidden. The Valkisian lifted what might have been only a dirty bundle to his massive shoulder. And over the bundle he gave Carse a beaming wink.
Carse himself was not so sure. In this moment, grasping at the chance for freedom, Ywain would not be too critical. But it was a long way to Sark.
Had he detected in her manner just the faintest note of mockery when she bent her head?
XV. Under the Two Moons
Boghaz, with the true instinct of his breed, had learned every rathole in Khondor. He took them out of the palace by a way so long disused that the dust lay inches thick and the postern door had almost rotted away. Then, by crumbling stairways and steep alleys that were no more than cracks in the rock, he led the way around the city.
Khondor seethed. The night wind carried echoes of hastening feet and taut voices. The upper air was full of beating wings where the Sky Folk went, dark against the stars.