Old Tumek fell with him.
Stumbling to his feet, Craig heaved up the oldster's limp body. With a strength born of sheer desperation, heedless of shouts and fire-blasts, he lunged on, out the rear door of the building.
A guard rose in their path.
Craig shot him down and charged blindly on, deep into the black alley shadows.
A thin whisper from Tumek: "Right ... next crosspath.... Door ... unlocked...."
Craig veered. In seconds he was pushing past a heavy gate ... easing it shut behind him once more.
The sounds of the guards' rage faded. Gently, Craig lowered Tumek to the ground.
An acrid scent rose in his nostrils ... the scent of charred flesh. With a shock, he became aware of the old Baemae's hoarse, labored breathing.
Numbly, he ran cautious fingers over the other's withered body.
The flesh along Tumek's right rib-casing crackled!