[Firefoot]

Siamak threaded his way back to his room. Zamara was clearly edgy about the meeting, and even more so about the choice of location. Actually, it surprised him just how vehemently Zamara had responded. Sure, it was the temple of Rae not Rhais, but did that really matter so much? It was after all, a seeming safe location. He shrugged it off. She had agreed to it, so that was that.

Back at his own chambers, he drew on a dark blue cloak, both to hide his identity and his weapon. If seen, the sword would certainly raise suspicion, but he dared not go without tonight. And certainly, his going would be marked should he be recognized. He set his hand on the doorknob, ready to leave, then hesitated. He had half a mind to go back and leave with his sister and Zamara. The streets were not safe for women anymore, especially not after curfew (as he was pretty sure it was). He dismissed it with a shake of his head. They were competent; they would be fine.

Drawing his cloak close and pulling up the hood, he left the room. He went in the most direct way he knew. He hoped he would not be stopped at the gate; at this time of night, he thought he might, but he could never be sure anymore. When he stepped into the courtyard, he found that he was in luck. Heading toward the gate was a group of the Emissary's men, large enough that no one would notice an addend. He stepped in behind them, just the right distance that anyone but they would assume he was with their group. As Siamak knew they would be, the men were waved through by the guards (more than one of them an orc). All affiliations of the Emissary were virtually allowed free rein. When they turned the corner, Siamak continued straight, breathing a sigh of relief but not relaxing his guard.

He kept to the sides of the streets, passing stores already closed for the night. The streets were deserted. Only a few months past this hour would have still been considered evening; there would still be laughing, talking people on the streets, and probably a few hopeful hawkers trying to sell their wares. Not now. This was dark, lonely, and depressing.

Sometime later he was approaching the ruins of the old temple. He had not been there since it had been destroyed, and found now that "ruins" described it rather poorly indeed. Why, most of the structure was still standing! If one were to squint in the dim light, they might take it for a whole building. Well, maybe not quite, but still, the purpose here had clearly not been destruction.

There was no one in the near vicinity, so Siamak, not seeing Tarkan, called out softly, "Tarkan?" He had no idea whether or not Tarkan knew he was coming, and so did not know what to expect.

He thought he saw some movement near the temple walls. "Who's there?" came a wary voice.

Siamak subconciously put his hand on his sword hilt. He could not see any distinctive figures, and was still concerned over the possibility of a trap. He took a few steps toward the temple. "I see we are equally cautious, so you will understand when I do not first give my name. For now, know that my companion is coming shortly," Siamak answered carefully. He did not intend to hide himself from Tarkan forever, only until he was sure that it was only Tarkan who was here. For now, he stood ready and awaited a reply.