Having lain by the gate for several minutes, listening and peering in the dark, Penn gathered himself and sprang for the base of a palm tree, outside the walls.
Several disruptor blasts slammed into the tree. Cries of “I got him,” rang out.
“Ceasefire, you idiots.” It was Penn’s old friend, the Beadle. “Penn, that you?”
“Yeah. Trying to kill me?’
“The Inn’s scullion saw an Assassin’s Guild priest jump from a tree and take a skimmer towards the desert.”
Penn laughed. “He’d been trying for me. Tell your boys to quit trying to kill me too, and let’s get a drink.”