Fendros felt a tingle run over the top and back of his skull when he processed the sight of the Cathay-Raht in front of him. His first reactions were called from shock; his heart quickened, his eyes darted to inspect the faces around them, and he double-checked that the rest of the pack was with him.

There was no way to know who was part of Do-Rhajul's group. Anyone around them could pull a silver knife and rush them. Sabine flapped to a stop, perching atop a tall market stall overlooking the two groups. She preened at the feathers of her right wing and darted her head around. She couldn't stay still either.

Any indication of rational sense only flowed as Fendros' unconscious grip around his sword's pommel tightened to the point of pain. Several moments of silence had passed already, stirred around with the murmurs and shuffles of the early market.

"Meesei, I think we should take our doses against gas before taking a step further," Fendros murmured. He was already fishing out the flask from a belt pouch. "This isn't right."