Forged Destiny [Book 7: Ch. 6]

There was a protest in the streets outside the palace.

It was a small thing, no more than a hundred or so people, and mostly peaceful, but it was the first sign of the civil unrest King Galan had mentioned, and I couldn't help but watch. Those involved were a mixture of Classes, but came mostly from the Labour Caste, although there were a few Soldiers mixed in.

I couldn't make out what they were saying or chanting.

[...]

The protest had drawn a larger crowd around it now, though fortunately they appeared more to be curious spectators than active participants

[...]

As the crowd dissipated, a hooded figure slipped through the crowd.

"There!" I shouted, hand snapping forward. "Saren, do you-?"

Saren was already moving. The Assassin was over the balcony and scaling down the wall, gripping to handholds I could barely make out. He landed on the grass hard and sprinted to the wall. A shadow detached itself, and for a moment I feared he might be attacked. Saren rushed up to the man and gripped his shoulder. They spoke quietly, the figure nodding. A second later, Saren pushed him away and the man vanished, hurrying out the gate and away.

A Greycloak.

Right there, in the middle of the crowd. The thought I might be wrong didn't even cross my mind. I'd seen that cloak too many times, had its weave engrained into my mind.

—Forged Destiny [Book 7: Ch. 6]