The slight pause was enough, however. "Get this straight," Tedor told him. "You'll deny any understanding of what I'm saying, but listen to me; I'm leaving Athens, I'm leaving Greece, I'm leaving this century. I don't want you following me. Is that clear?"
"Clearly, the Mysteries have befuddled your mind, my friend."
"If I see you again anyplace else I'm going to kill you. You live now only because I'm not altogether certain. Is that clear?"
"It is clear you are possessed."
Yes, the man had poise. Abruptly, Tedor struck him back-handed across the face and listened to him curse. It was an old trick, but like most old tricks, it worked. The man cursed fluently in Tedor's own language.
"Well, well, well," Tedor said. The man bolted and ran.
Tedor retraced his steps toward the gate, hoping he'd return to the grove of plane trees ahead of Laniq Hadrien.
By the light of a crescent moon, Laniq found her conveyor, entered it, switched on a night light she knew would be swallowed by the darkness outside.
Stripping the mantle from her body, she walked to a cabinet and found her own clothing—shorts and blouse and sandals. Dropping her Grecian tunic to the floor she stood naked for a moment then climbed into her shorts.