Aza had already slipped away by the time Donovan was receiving his first of many punches to the face. While he was getting hurled through walls and surrounded by swords, she -- and a small attending army of fox-shaped shadows -- were busily (and bloodlessly, thank you) commandeering the palanquin and all its attendants. Half the crowd in the square had fled; the other half hung back to watch the production starring Don and his opponents, one of whom was literally on fire. From the docks to the stables to all this out here, it was a pretty exciting day for this city. And it wasn't even noon.<br/><br/>"And that," Aza said, motioning at the feathered headpiece adorning one of the servants. The man shrugged and pulled it off to hand it up to her, readily giving up his old master's bauble rather than argue with the toothy black shades that hovered all around their little group. Aza pulled a few of the long colored feathers from the headpiece's gold settings and used them to poke at the nose of the actual fox, who snapped and batted at them from its snuggled-in nest of the shoulder bag. The fox still looked a bit bedraggled, but maybe Donovan extending what was left of his Glory had given it enough energy to wake up and sleepily help collect anything of value they could find. Indeed, the bag was now stuffed to the brim, with shiny things and fox.<br/><br/>A sort-of cheer went up, and Aza glanced over through the parted curtains to see that Don had finally managed to dispatch one of the bug-led monks. The crowd had apparently decided the Knight was the good guy, or at least their rooting interest. She supposed she hoped he won.<br/><br/>"Perhaps we should move on, mistress?" one of the other servants inquired hesitantly, watching the fight get bloodier. Much like Aza herself, most of her new entourage was happy to serve whoever showed up and wasn't going to whip them too badly. After the shadows had swooped on and swallowed up the corpulent merchant that had previously ridden in the palanquin, its bearers and guard turned to the pretty little foxgirl with no complaint or even much comment. She'd be a lot lighter to tote around anyway.<br/><br/>Aza reached for a provided silver bowl for some grapes, and tossed a piece of fruit at the fox's head. "This fat man, had he a palace?" she asked first. What else beyond a palanquin might she just have inherited? This could be good.<br/><br/>"In Kulratha. Here, he was lodged at the Grand Hotel for the next fortnight," the servant answered, watching and applauding with the others as Donovan took the throat out of his second adversary.<br/><br/>"Hm," said Aza, and bit down on another grape. A fortnight sounded pretty long. She could fit a lot of relaxation into a fortnight on some dead merchant's golden dime.<br/><br/>"First," she decided, "we see how this is to end." 'This' being Donovan's confrontation, which shortly and grotesquely did. Don didn't even take a moment to celebrate over what was left of the monks, just staggered a little and then came storming over, looking like he'd just escaped death three or more times. The shadow-foxes scattered, like they didn't like the expression on his face.<br/><br/>"Congratulations," she told him pleasantly, which was a lot of syllables for her, but he only nabbed her by the jeweled wrist and pulled her from the padded platform, insisting that they had to leave, and immediately.<br/><br/>"But!" she said, frantically trying to grab something velvet or gold to hang on to.<br/><br/><em>The grapes!</em>whimpered the fox, from the bag still over the girl's shoulder.<br/><br/>Aza fought as he dragged her off towards the stables, until he was forced to pin her under an arm and half carry her. If she'd known the song the cicadas were singing to him, she might not have squirmed against him so much. Nah, she probably would've wiggled even more. And made sure her dress slipped much further off one slender shoulder than it did.<br/><br/><em>Um, who's that?</em>the fox asked, as Don hauled them through the big double doors and into the stalls.<br/><br/>Aza, half wrapped around one of Donovan's arms in an attempt to nip him somewhere unarmored, looked up to see the tall, spiky woman standing in front of four bridled and saddled horses. It took more than a wardrobe and hair change to throw off the foxgirl, though. "With her, I'll ride," Aza announced, abruptly letting go of the Knight to let her feet lightly drop to the floor, then shove the heavy fox-and-trinket-filled bag at him.