9
Sage led us northward out of the central tent area and across the thoroughfare. The crowds had thinned and we had no trouble slipping into the encampment on the left of the temple. A few people walked among the tents, but no one stopped us as Sage studied the area.
“So what are we looking for?” I asked him.
He pressed a finger to his lips. “Quiet, and a grouping of casks. Those would indicate the tent of the oilers.”
Caius nodded at a tent ahead of us. “Then that should be it.”
There were two dozen small casks outside the closed flap of the tent. Several of the scorched bowls used in the botched procession sat outside on the ground in a long row. A glow across the soft walls indicated somebody was home. We hurried up to the door and Sage scratched on the hard canvas.
“Come
