quietly in hopes of stilling her heart and frazzled nerves. Whichever guard or bounty hunter that had been, her hunters were still out there, so she couldn’t leave just yet. Instead, she pulled out the longest scrap of leather thong she had left in her boot and used it to tie her boot tight across the ankle and again across the top. It was serviceable, if uncomfortable.
She hid for a while longer, then began to creep out, wondering if she could make an escape. She found that the alley she’d jumped into was a short branch off a minor paved street. Not good. She inched closer to the mouth of the alley, listening intently.
She heard boots pacing slowly along and voices quietly speaking a foreign tongue. She quickly moved back down the narrow passage to her scant hiding place, but as she pulled her rapier in beside her, the tip of her scabbard scraped on the stone doorframe.
She heard the voices pause. They spoke again, some sort of interrogative. She heard the whispering sound of steel being drawn, then the scuff of feet moving into the alley.
Kehrsyn pulled a tiny mirror from a secret pocket at her waist and used it to peer around the side of the doorway. Two black-tabarded swordsmen moved slowly down the alley, peering into windows, doorways, and barrels, as well as scanning the walls and ledges above them.
There was no way out. Kehrsyn hadn’t a clue what to do. She fingered her rapier … If I’m going to suffer for killing one of these bullies, she thought, I might as well actually do it. Deep inside, however, she wasn’t certain she could.
She watched them draw closer and saw that they were too cautious for her to be able to ambush one of them. Just as that realization crossed her mind, she saw something move at the open end of the alley. The guards turned just in time to see a cloaked figure vanish from sight behind them. They looked at each other, startled and confused, then somewhere nearby the keening cry of the guards’ whistle started again. The two sprinted from the alley to pursue, blowing their whistles in response.
Kehrsyn sagged against the wall and let herself drop to the ground. She didn’t care that the cold rain soaked its way through the seat of her skirt and into her leggings. Kehrsyn could hear the guards’ whistles moving farther and farther away through the city. She didn’t know who or what those Zhents had chased, but in all likelihood it had saved her virtue and her life. Not knowing what else to do, she reached around, found her pear still in her sash, and took it out. For some reason, it no longer looked appetizing, so she let her hand droop over her knee.
She hung her head and let silent tears of relief trickle off her nose and join the cold rain that slicked the grimy street.
R uzzara stalked the rooftops, cursing the luck that had her chasing a reluctant recruit through near-freezing rain. The throbbing chill in her feet had not abated when she’d put her boots back on. In fact, the dampness of her feet had balled up the lint in her stockings, making them even less comfortable.
Her feet slid out from under her on the slanting rooftop, dropping her hard onto her left hip. Despite the fact that her legs slid most of the way off the rooftop, dangling over empty space, she appeared merely inconvenienced. She stood back up, muttering an inventive string of rural invectives and rubbing her hip.
Ruzzara had seen the confusion in Hooper’s Alley, seen how a premature whistle had sent the city guard, the deputized brute squad, and a hopeful bounty hunter all running in the wrong direction, chasing their own alarm like a stampede of maddened bulls.
She wasn’t sure how the young lass had done it, but it was very clever. In fact, Ruzzara hadn’t expected the young girl to do that well at all. She’d thought the guards would have long since taken care of the “murdering thief,” forever concealing Ruzzara’s role in the killing. Instead, she searched in the rain, trying to
She hid for a while longer, then began to creep out, wondering if she could make an escape. She found that the alley she’d jumped into was a short branch off a minor paved street. Not good. She inched closer to the mouth of the alley, listening intently.
She heard boots pacing slowly along and voices quietly speaking a foreign tongue. She quickly moved back down the narrow passage to her scant hiding place, but as she pulled her rapier in beside her, the tip of her scabbard scraped on the stone doorframe.
She heard the voices pause. They spoke again, some sort of interrogative. She heard the whispering sound of steel being drawn, then the scuff of feet moving into the alley.
Kehrsyn pulled a tiny mirror from a secret pocket at her waist and used it to peer around the side of the doorway. Two black-tabarded swordsmen moved slowly down the alley, peering into windows, doorways, and barrels, as well as scanning the walls and ledges above them.
There was no way out. Kehrsyn hadn’t a clue what to do. She fingered her rapier … If I’m going to suffer for killing one of these bullies, she thought, I might as well actually do it. Deep inside, however, she wasn’t certain she could.
She watched them draw closer and saw that they were too cautious for her to be able to ambush one of them. Just as that realization crossed her mind, she saw something move at the open end of the alley. The guards turned just in time to see a cloaked figure vanish from sight behind them. They looked at each other, startled and confused, then somewhere nearby the keening cry of the guards’ whistle started again. The two sprinted from the alley to pursue, blowing their whistles in response.
Kehrsyn sagged against the wall and let herself drop to the ground. She didn’t care that the cold rain soaked its way through the seat of her skirt and into her leggings. Kehrsyn could hear the guards’ whistles moving farther and farther away through the city. She didn’t know who or what those Zhents had chased, but in all likelihood it had saved her virtue and her life. Not knowing what else to do, she reached around, found her pear still in her sash, and took it out. For some reason, it no longer looked appetizing, so she let her hand droop over her knee.
She hung her head and let silent tears of relief trickle off her nose and join the cold rain that slicked the grimy street.
R uzzara stalked the rooftops, cursing the luck that had her chasing a reluctant recruit through near-freezing rain. The throbbing chill in her feet had not abated when she’d put her boots back on. In fact, the dampness of her feet had balled up the lint in her stockings, making them even less comfortable.
Her feet slid out from under her on the slanting rooftop, dropping her hard onto her left hip. Despite the fact that her legs slid most of the way off the rooftop, dangling over empty space, she appeared merely inconvenienced. She stood back up, muttering an inventive string of rural invectives and rubbing her hip.
Ruzzara had seen the confusion in Hooper’s Alley, seen how a premature whistle had sent the city guard, the deputized brute squad, and a hopeful bounty hunter all running in the wrong direction, chasing their own alarm like a stampede of maddened bulls.
She wasn’t sure how the young lass had done it, but it was very clever. In fact, Ruzzara hadn’t expected the young girl to do that well at all. She’d thought the guards would have long since taken care of the “murdering thief,” forever concealing Ruzzara’s role in the killing. Instead, she searched in the rain, trying to
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