But now, the street was almost impassable. It seemed to be drowning in people, all trying to push their way to the gates to speak with the guards.
“So many craftsmen,” Eliol breathed.
He saw Tonjek’s father among them, as well as the old sculptor who lived near the city gates, and the painter whom Ollie had said made a living only by painting portraits for brothels. Eliol knew what brothels were, of course, but he’d never told his parents that. He couldn’t very well tell them that he and Tonjek had once sneaked in on a dare and seen things... Things that...
In short, things that had fascinated Eliol but had somehow frightened Tonjek.
“Alright then,” Eliol sniffled. “We’ll do this the unconventional way!”
With that, he dropped to his knees and... crawled between the legs of the gathere
