The pens were built of wooden posts set close together and planted deep in the earth. The outer wall was a small fortification designed to foil would-be thieves. It would require a grapple to climb it. There was only one gate, and it would be barred from the inside. Because of the street disturbances, Daxus had taken to sealing himself inside with the camels.

Noiselessly, she crept around the walls, peeking through the frequent tiny gaps. The interior was sectioned into smaller pens. She listened for sounds. Even the camels seemed at rest. But ... was that the glow of a small fire?

She stole up to the gate and laid a hand against the rough wood. Only guile would open it without attracting half the rowdies in the city. And guile wasn't one of her more reliable talents. Daxus was a man, though, and if she'd learned nothing else, she knew she could count on his basest instincts.

She removed her cloak, then shed her tunic, careful not to mislay a thin metal probe secreted up her right sleeve. She hugged herself, wondering about her trousers and boots. Damn, it was cold! Already, she was covered with gooseflesh. Still, if Daxus was suspicious he might want a better look. Cursing silently, she gazed up and down the street and slipped off the rest of her garments. Lastly, she propped her sword against the wall close at hand.

Then she pounded frantically on the gate. "Help!" she cried in a tight whisper. "Please let me in! My husband will kill me! Help!" She beat the wood with the flat of her hand, shooting glances around, hoping no one else would hear.

A narrow portal slid open a bare fraction. No face appeared, but a voice whispered back. "Who's that? I don't want no trouble. Go away."

The portal started to slide shut, but Chenaya shoved her finger into the aperture. "Wait!" she begged. "You're Daxus. I've seen you before. Please, let me in before my husband finds me. He beats me, but this time I ran away. He chased me across Caravan Square, but I lost him. He'll catch up, though. Please, it's so cold!" That much was certainly true. "Hide me, I beg you!"

The portal opened wider; one eye peered through. "Is this a trick?" Daxus grumbled. "Stand back so I can get a look at you. Say, you haven't got a stitch on!"

She thanked the gods for her foresight. But it was freezing! It might be a good touch, she decided, if she sank to her knees, so she did. "I had a dress, but he ripped it off. Tried to rape me, the drunken oaf!" She hoped she was whining convincingly. Was Daphne really worth this kind of humiliation?

The portal slid all the way open, and the watchman poked his face out, glanced from side to side as far as the opening allowed, and licked his lips. Decision gleamed in his eyes as he grinned at her. "Well, I've got a fire that'll warm you, sweet. Warm you through and through."

The portal scraped shut. Chenaya heard the heavy bar lift on the inside of the gate. It started to swing back.

She rose swiftly and grabbed her sword. She remembered that lustful look on his face and how it repulsed her; she loathed the role she had assumed to trick him; on top of that she was chilled to the bone. For those reasons, she hit him a lot harder than was needed. Fortunately for Daxus she only used the pommel of her weapon.

Moving quickly, she dragged him back inside, then retrieved her garments. She pushed the gate closed, took a moment to throw the cloak around her shoulders, then bent over his unmoving form. The length of chain came free from her belt, and she fumbled for the wire-thin probe in her tunic sleeve.

She worked by the light of his fire. At one end of the chain two small, blunt prongs were clasped together with a piece of wrapped string as long as the chain itself. This she inserted in the watchman's right nostril. With the probe she guided the chain up his nose and into the nasal passage that led deep into his throat. Chenaya knew when the prongs were positioned. Carefully, she separated the lengths of chain and string and began slowly to pull. The probe insured that the chain remained in place, but it twisted as she tugged on the string. Moments later, the wrapping came free, and the prongs snapped open. She gave a light tug on the chain. It was firmly anchored.

It was the method used to handle recalcitrant slaves and criminals in Ranke. Awake, the process was quite painful. Daxus was lucky she'd hit him so hard. He wasn't, however, going to like it at all.

She didn't like the smell of the camels. It was time to go. All she had to do was sneak him back to Land's End. She wrapped the free end of the chain around her hand and started to heave him over her shoulder.

The gate pushed open. It was Day me.

"What are you doing here?" she whispered angrily, heart pounding. With her hands full of Daxus she hadn't been able to reach her sword.

"Watching your back," he answered calmly. "Pull on the rest of your clothes. I'll carry him."

She blushed hotly. No doubt he'd seen a lot more than her back. And she'd been in such a rush to get away with Daxus she'd forgotten to pull on more than the cloak. She released the chain and hurriedly dressed. But it irritated her that she hadn't noticed Dayrne, and she mentioned it.

"Mistress," he grinned, "I was sneaking through streets and back alleys when you were still playing with dolls."

"But you got caught," she reminded haughtily.

He nodded. "Everyone gets caught sometime."

She stamped into her boots and pointed to Daxus who showed signs of stirring. "Well, let's not get caught tonight. This package is for Daphne."

Dayrne's fist sent the watchman back to sleep.

"Lady Chenaya, daughter of Lowan Vigeles, cousin to His Highness Prince Kadakithis."

Lu-Broca, the Palace's major-domo, smiled graciously as he announced her arrival to the festival guests. He made a curt bow of personal greeting which she acknowledged with a nod.

Five steps descended from the entrance to the floor of the Grand Hall. She took them slowly, noting the tables piled with food and drink, the musicians and dancers, the faces that turned in her direction.

It was a good mix of the city's upper class; Rankan rubbed shoulders with Ilsig and Beysib in stark contrast to the intense street rivalries. On the far side of the hall Hakiem the storyteller-turned-Beysib-advisor stood in conversation with several guests. Nearby, listening discreetly, was the man called Lastel; Chenaya knew little of him save that he was apparently quite rich. There were others: Gonfred the Goldsmith, Dr. Nadeesha, Master Melilot the Scribe. There were also lots of Beysibs she didn't recognize; they all looked alike to her.

Then she spied Kadakithis. Shupansea, the Beysib ruler, hung on his arm. It amused her to note that even the Beysa had adopted local fashion, covering her breasts instead of brazenly painting them. Of course, Molin Torchholder was with them.

The Prince hurried forward, all smiles and warmth, glad to see her. Neither Shupansea nor Molin appeared to share his enthusiasm.

"Cousin!" the Prince exclaimed over the noise of the celebration. "I'd heard you'd returned to us. Why didn't you come visit?" He wrapped his arms around her and gave his favorite relative a gentle hug.

"Business, my Little Prince," she answered, rumpling his hair in a manner that made Shupansea frown. "There were things 1 had to do." She glanced back at the entrance, then hugged her cousin again. "Can we speak alone?" she whispered in his ear.

Even as children they had shared confidences. The Prince didn't hesitate. He turned to Shupansea. "Excuse me a moment, my love, while I lead Chenaya to refreshment. I'm sure Molin will see to your entertainment." He gave the Beysa no chance to voice disapproval, but caught his cousin's arm and steered her into the crowd.