noon
He had created the disguise that was me . When the second sun set , red and burning , behind the salt cliffs , I knew he was not in Shainsa , but I stayed on , waiting for something to happen . At night I slept in a cubbyhole behind a wineshop , paying an inordinate price for that very dubious privilege . And every day in the sleepy silence of the blood-red noon I paced the public square of Shainsa . This went on for four days . No one took the slightest notice of another nameless man in a shabby shirtcloak , without name or identity or known business . No one appeared to see me except the dusty children , with pale fleecy hair , who played their patient games on the windswept curbing of the square .