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Derras lapsed into quiet—not silence, because he muttered regularly, and Leopold caught cursing on the edge of his breath. He hunched over the table, engrossed in his screen, tapping angrily and then reading.
Leopold didn’t disturb him. Whatever was happening out there, Derras needed time to consolidate it. If Leopold interjected, he knew he’d receive half-finished thoughts and conflicting data.
But that didn’t stop him thinking. Screams, cries, muffled thuds and sharp cracks. Even with his limited experience, Leopold surmised them to be the soundtrack to a fight, and it had taken place in the heart of Shorack’s area. What Leopold had first dismissed as exuberance was clearly an attack.
“He’s on his way,” Derras said suddenly, although he was still hunched over his screen.
