Seeing a beautiful woman dripping wet and silhouetted in the doorway, Khait blinks rapidly and coughs once, a little nervously-- "No-- I mean, he's alive, it seems..."  she drops her eyes but flickers them back up.  They look almost luminous, like rubies twinkling in the night.  "You are very kind."  She turns to her stallion... Asiman seems the least effected by the preceedings, and has hardly broken a sweat.<br/><br/>The groaning man  in the street makes a weak, wet coughing sound.  "I can't leave this one out here, though..."  she knows what the guild will do if Asiman shows up with a broken body on his back... they'll take him to a healer, knowing that Khait will owe the cost of healing from her wages.  And Asiman knows the way.<br/><br/>Khait hauls him up from the street... the act not easy, but-- she lifts him easier than a man would.  Almost effortlessly, like a dock worker hauling up a sack of grain.  She lays him across the saddle and lashes him quickly with a couple of leather ties that dangle there... he moans with pain, but otherwise doesn't protest... not much left of him, in fact.  Khait unties a leather satchel from the saddle and whispers something in the horse's ear.  His big, black eyes flash with something like concern, then the stallion takes off, taking a sudden turn out of sight on his way to the guild quarters.<br/><br/>Carrying the satchel loosely in her hand-- it is tied very, very tightly, and is big enough to contain a half loaf of bread or so-- Khait turns to the doorway.  "I am quite honored."  She removes the helmet, silvery plaits and waves spilling out, and bows low in respect.<br/><br/>