CHAPTER TEN
The throngs of people gathered close about a pair of metal doors that were each twenty feet high and ten feed wide. Intricate carvings of columns and flowing water were so real that the sun reflected off the shimmering liquid and reflected the curious faces of the front row. They were blocked from reaching the doors by a contingency of armored guards with a few smatterings of the agile ones that had guarded the Cloister.
A short man was hunched over the foot-tall lock that kept the pair of doors closed. He wore a brown leather apron over his front, a bland green shirt with the sleeves rolled up, and the bottoms of his pants disappeared in black boots. An equally black bag sat beside him on the ground.
Pennae wrinkled her nose. “The officials must be desperate.”
I looke
