"Lead the way," Kalugal said.
They began the journey back through the market, taking a circuitous route to avoid retracing their steps and traversing their earlier path. Fenella kept checking over her shoulder, searching for faces that appeared too often or eyes that lingered too long.
"Stop that," Din murmured. "You're attracting attention."
"Says the man carrying half a bazaar's worth of merchandise."
"Touché."
They were nearly back to the main thoroughfare when it happened.
A man stepped out of a shop directly in front of them—tall, European features, eyes that tracked their group with predatory interest. Not a local. Not a tourist either.
"Keep walking," Kalugal said quietly. "Don't react."
They passed the man, who made no move to follow or intercept. But Fenella could feel his gaze burning into her back.
"Doomer?" she breathed.
"No. But he might be working for them."
"Reporting," Max said. "Or he could be just a random dude with a resting bulldog face."
When they reached the vehicles without further incident, got inside, and pulled away from the Khan, Fenella let out a sigh of relief.
"Well," she said, settling back in her seat. "That was educational."
"We learned about Isa," Kyra pointed out. "That's progress."
Fenella touched the scarf Din had bought for her, the silk cool and soft beneath her fingers.
Din's ridiculous shopping spree was kind of sweet. He'd bought her things simply because he wanted to, prompted by a street vendor who had suggested that a good husband should buy his wife nice things.
"Thank you." She leaned against his shoulder.
"For what?"
"For the lamp. It's hideous, but I love it."
