A gate crossing blocked the road into the Merchanter Quarter, the black and white stripes of the gate arm attesting to the disaffections that divided the Aurigan cause. 'Nothing is as simple as black and white here, except the danger we're in,' Halverson let go the thought as quickly as it had come. They had spent the night sleepless in an alley, not knowing the way to the Merchanter Quarter, not sure of pursuit. At dawn they hit the streets, walking eggshells with every person they passed. But the red scarves gave them anonymity, and the arms they carried kept eyes averted. Even Jenkins quickly guessed the truth, though his thick mind could not have put words to it. Fear ruled here, fear of talking, fear of looking into eyes, fear of red scarves.