Then, at last, they reached a final, ramshackle structure only one level high.
Beyond it, the ramping-place stretched off through the flare-sparked blackness of the night.
Jarl peered down into the flanking alleys. But this time he could find no shadow-cordon, no trace of Legat's raiders.
Sais brushed against him. Once more, he caught the half-forgotten fragrance of her hair.
He pressed her hand. "It looks good, Sais. Legat never thought about the roofs. His men are farther back in the quarter."
"Then—?"
"We'll chance it."
Her lips touched his cheek. It was her only answer.
Together, hand in hand, they slipped down a rickety outside ramp to the ground. In silence, they made their way across the sprawling port's scorched cinders.
As they walked, Jarl felt the surface tension leave him. The heavy, mixed smells of Rogek gas and rocket fuel were perfume in his nostrils. His job was done, here at Ceresta. He'd rescued Sais and learned the truth about Ktar Wassreck.