The second man was smaller by about a head, and had only half as much mass. His nervous dark eyes jumped around in his sockets with every sound and shadow that flitted through his senses. As he sidled, he fingered the crude-looking club clutched in his right hand. His left hand, however, was unable to still; scrubbing tiredly at his eyes, scratching at his scalp, or smoothing back his dark hair. His mouth was small and terse, his nose flared and aquiline. Despite his nerves, however, he made every attempt to engage his partner in some sort of insipid conversation.
He looked put out from each thwarted endeavor at speech. “Aren’t these patrol hours scary long?â€?
The taller man strode on, too professional to be engaged by such petty talk, and made no answer.
Far behind them, two shadows danced in the darkness. They leapt from hiding place to hiding place, near ghosts in the fast-fading candlelight. Each shadow would flit in and out of alleyways, keeping a safe distance from the patrolmen.