His tone was like a slap in the face. Penkawr gave a snarling grin.
“No matter. I have heard of you, Carse. As I said, I have a gift for you. A most rare and valuable gift.”
“Something so rare and valuable that you had to follow me in the darkness to tell me about it, even in Jekkara.” Carse frowned at Penkawr, trying to fathom his duplicity. “Well, what is it?”
“Come and I’ll show you.”
“Where is it?”
“Hidden. Well hidden up near the palace quays.”
Carse nodded. “Something too rare and valuable to be carried or shown even in a thieves’ market. You intrigue me, Penkawr. We will go and look at your gift.”
Pankawr showed his pointed teeth in the moonlight and led off. Carse followed. He moved lightly, poised for instant action. His gun hand swung loose and ready at his side. He was wondering what sort of price Penkawr of Barrakesh planned to ask for his “gift.”
As they climbed upward toward the palace, scrambling over worn reefs and along cliff-faces that still showed the erosion of the sea, Carse had as always the feeling that he was climbing a sort of ladder into the past. It turned him cold with a queer shivering thrill to see the great docks still standing, marked with the mooring of ships. In the eerie moonlight one could almost imagine…
“In here,” said Penkawr.