Rhaak held a bit of cloth to his mouth, his open tunic tugging at his body as the wind and dust began to coalesce, and the walls that held the iron resolutely not moments before began to give way. He was not certain what his new master was capable of, but it filled him with a wild fear mixed with a wondrous thrill. He heard shouts in the distance, and it crossed his mind that while she controlled powers he could not understand, she still ran from their pursuers as he did. He supposed there were reasons she needed his help. 

At her leave he grabbed the iron bars that now sagged slightly, wrenching it two and fro before yanking the stubborn gate from the loosened wall. Unfortunately, the act of doing so caused the sandstone roof above to crack and grumble. Turning to look back into the ancient pathway, the slave could see scimitars blades glinting in the light. A last crack drew his attention, and he threw down the gate and took his master's hand as he jumped. 

The sudden light of day along with the heat of the sun glared in their eyes, but Rhaak just managed to grab ahold of one of the many lines that clung between buildings that held drying meats and clothes and carpets. "Hold on, master!" The end he grabbed broke, but it allowed them to swing and lose some falling momentum as they plummeted. With an athletic twist, his feet skipped twice across the sandstone wall as he tried to make it to the opposite side of the bank. 

Unfortunately, a sword above cut the thread and caused them to fall the remaining dozen feet into the canal. They crashed into the water to resurface near a small shoddy dock. Cries of protest and awe echoed behind them, from their pursuers to onlookers and fishermen, but for now they were safe. The pit fighter sputtered and grunted, hacking away the last bit of Tagria water out of this throat, and helped his master onto the side of the Canal, before pulling himself out.

They found themselves near the dock, the dirt of the city was at hot as fire and as hard as the iron Rhaak had just removed.

"Ah, Salaam and good day to you friends." A serpent's voice was heard. Out of the milling crowd, a small man with a hat that looked very much like a coned beehive gave them dishonest smile. It showed a few lesser teeth and one bronze molar. "It seems to me you are of the desperate sort yes?" He asked, his eyebrows wiggling, fingers already sweating at the promise of swindling them for all of their worth. The faint smell of the addictive drug boruba smoked out of his rancid mouth.

"I know not your business, but only thieves and heretics dive into the canals, and I happen to have a boat for sale if you would indulged me with some business..." 
[@Penny]