He rang the bell at the guardhouse. A guard in one of the watch platforms above turned to look down into the forecourt at them, then twisted back to his survey of the streets and the turbulent city. Within moments, bars scraped and locks rattled. The door scraped open and the sergeant pushed into the forecourt, a pair of armed guards at his back and another guard holding high a lamp.

“Get inside your cells!”

“What is happening? We heard the commotion—”

“Get inside!”

His angry words drove them back into the main courtyard, all but Keshad, who held his ground. “Honored one, may I ask if we are in any danger here? How can we protect ourselves against these alarms?”

“Get inside,” said the sergeant, but less gruffly now that he only faced one man. “I know nothing. Men have broken curfew. That is bad. Best you get inside until the storm passes.”

The storm roared closer. A burst of running feet in a nearby street was followed by a chorus of shouts so loud the sergeant flinched. Kesh took a step back from the gate, wondering if the tumult was about to blow the gates off their hinges. The distinctive clamor of swords and spears in melee hammered the night, the skirmish racing as though one group was chasing another. The guards drew their swords; a fifth man popped out of the guardhouse.

“All ranks at the ready,” snarled the sergeant, and the man vanished back into the tower. “They may try to break in.”

The skirmish flowed down the street, passing by the gates outside as Kesh gripped his sword so tightly he was shaking. Then the melee moved on; the noise reached a pitch close by and abruptly subsided.

The sergeant exhaled. He spoke to his guards in the local language; Kesh was too rattled to catch more than a word here and there. Foreigners. Market. Fire. Traitors to the emperor.

Kesh sidled sideways, trying to get a look through the open door into the guardhouse. He was pretty sure it snaked through the compound wall because there was another opening for the guard unit street side. The guards watched both ways, keeping locals out and foreigners in.

A muffled shout caused Kesh to jump away from the gate to the far wall. As though slapped by a giant hand, the gates shuddered. Frantic voices called from inside the guardhouse. The sergeant swore, signaled to his men, and bolted inside. The last guard swung the door shut behind him, and at first Kesh just stood there as a struggle erupted within. Then merchants came running from the courtyard, babbling and questioning, and Kesh shoved past them and ran to his own cell, where Eliar waited by the door.

“What do we do?” Eliar demanded.

“The hells if I know. These gods-rotted empire laws have us caged like beasts, not a chance to get in or out nor anywhere to hide or escape to. Curse them. Maybe we can get out over the roofs.”