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The marketplace was bustling with activity. Even under the torrid heat, fish vendors waved palms to grab the attention of passersby and men called out to the dozens of men and women to offer samples of fresh fruit from the Heblenon. Laughter rose from one corner of the bazaar, but it was hushed as the crowd parted to make way for a dozen Mamluks, helms with points like pikes gleaming in the sunlight, scale mail glittering as they marched, passing the stalls of cramped wood and colorful fabric. 

"Come on," Neil whispered to his companion, placing the cloth back over his lower face and slipping back into the shadows.  Calliope followed, her form lithe but not used to the ducking and dodging of a practice thief. She followed him under a shadowed alcove, up a small set of stairs into an alleyway, entering the less reputable part of the merchant quarter of the fabulous city of Ragba Shahir. 

The cloying scent of fresh baked bread pierced even their swathed faces, and Calliope's mouth had only just begun to water before Neil presented her with a freshly baked cake, his dark eye winking at her before moving along. The next scent was unfortunately less pleasant, a manure farmer shoveling what could only be described as brown gloop into a carriage wagon, his nose pinned and his eyes red. Neil and the black witch hurried past, leaping over a small wall and traversing past a quaint garden before turning a corner down another alley, this one more shadowed and filled with the eyes of watchers, from the windows and the trash heaps. Doors closed and whispers to Hayashim drifted past lips, but Neil paid them no mind. 

He stepped down another corner, passing a man swathed in a cloak with two wicked daggers at his belt in comfortable reach. Neil only gave him a wave, stopping at the cusp of an opening, veiled by a heavy curtain. Neil pulled it aside and held it up for Calliope to enter through. Once she stepped past the unremarkable sandstone wall, she was met with a well-lit room of, if not opulence, then a merchant's luxury. The torches revealed a room with soft carpets and lush lounge sofas arrayed around a small, mahogany table. A painting of a large breasted bedouin girl was hung above a foyer table, and cups of brass were arrayed on the table at the center.  Past that, two steps up led to a small counter and a large, comfortable armchair. 

Out of a small door to the northern end of the abode stepped a short man, with thin limbs and a sizeable paunch. He bore a large nose and a cloth was swaddled around his head, almost with the shape and likeness of a beehive. He yelped when he saw Neil and Calliope in the middle of his great chamber, the strong young thief pulling the veil from his face, tipping the brass cup back and downing some of his expensive wine. 

"Who the- It's you!" The small man cried. "How did you find me!? I told you-" 

"I followed you," Neil said before finishing his cup. The small man was flabbergasted and offended at that, but he did not seem overly enthusiastic on kicking both of them out, considering they were already here and he was unarmed. Any weapons could be hiding within the thieves clothes the two had procured for themselves over the past day.

"Why are we here, exactly?" The witch asked, lips pursed in thought and sharp eyes boring into the little man, before flicking to her mischievous lover. "You still have yet to tell me where you went yesterday. I assume this is apart of it?"

Neil took the brass cup and used it to gesticulate to Calliope. "Calli, this is the man that is going to get us into the palace of Maza-dan Sheref. He has a few connections that can get us past a bit of the security, if we make it worth his while. Allow me the pleasure of introducing you to Muk Al-matuk."