The Heart of the mirage

PART FOUR

I stood at my window looking down on the street below. I had been drawn there by the jingling of a shleth harness and the chatter of voices, to find the road filled with a line of mounted Magor and pack animals, all heading out of the city. There were those of gold cabochon rank, as well as Illusos, Theuros and ordinary Kardis, all of them heavily armed.

I raised my cabochon to my ear and listened, trying to gain some clue as to what was happening. In the confusion of s and it was hard to hear individual conversation, even with my enhanced hearing, and the sort of remarks I did pick up were of little value; things like: 'Your girth needs loosening, Jaset,' or 'Did Bethely give you a hearty farewell last night, Mooris? It could be a while before you see her again!'

My eyes searched for and found Temellin: he had pulled his mount to the side and was watching those who rode past. His ivory full-sleeved shirt and rusty brown trousers were crumpled, as though he'd been sleeping in his clothes, or had simply lost interest in ^;= appearance. The scarlet slash of his cloth belt and