29
THE FRONT GATES of the safe house opened with a creak, releasing many years of built-up rust. Silent figures streamed into the yard, pushing the caterpillar-like structure over the uneven pavement. Thick wooden wheels rumbled, each set of two with forked beams holding up a section of the cloth or hide that formed the tray of the vehicle. Flowers spilled over the edge of the cloth.
Ikay stood knee-deep in them, waving instructions. Her body sinewy and muscles corded, she wore nothing except a wreath of flowers on her head. Her tail waved free and snapped when things didn’t go to her satisfaction.
Energy hummed from within the tray of the cart. All night, a line of porters had streamed in carrying bags. They had come in through the back door, through the Pengali-known maze of alleys, d
