As I lay there, shaking my head and trying desperately to get a grip on my scattered wits, I saw a pair of black boots walk silently up the aisle. The rub of leather on leather whispered past and I lay as still as a statue on a shrine. As the almost imperceptible steps receded, my head cleared and I lay there frantically trying to work out which way the door would be. As I racked my brains, I became aware of a faint light ahead of me. I shuffled forwards with agonising care but what I saw made me think I was going under the delirium again. Footprints were gleaming on the stones, not with any of the colours of magelight but with a faint luminescence like the moonfire you get on ships. I stared and then a shock ran though me as I realised those were my steps being outlined for whoever was chasing me. I wriggled round to check my boot soles but there was nothing on them so there was no point in taking them off.
I scrambled through to the opposite side of the racks as fast as I could without making too much noise, but speed was more important than silence now. I stood and looked wildly round. Boots echoed a few rows behind me so I headed away from them, cursing silently as the tell-tale silver footprints followed me. I reached the large double doors and found the postern; my picks slipped in my sweaty hands as I tried to unlock it. My hands, my solid, completely solid and visible hands; I realised with a lurch of terror that Shiv's spell was gone. The scrape of a boot-heel came out of the blackness and my nerve snapped like a bowstring. I wrenched back the bolts of the main doors and shoved them open; I'd take my chances with whoever might be on guard rather than risk ending up like Yeniya.
A shout behind me summoned the hunters and I ran for my life. The streets were dark and silent. My steps echoed back from the blank stone walls of the warehouses. There was nowhere to hide even if I had wanted to. I ran on, heading for the centre of the city, my head clearing in the cool night air, thank Saedrin. Why is there never a Watchman around when you need one?
I saw the dark opening of an alley and slowed a pace; should I go down it or not? That hesitation saved my life as a black-clad man stepped out and swung a sword where my head should have been. I scrambled backwards, drawing my own sword; how in Poldrion's name had they moved ahead of me?
The killer moved and lashed out with his sword. I parried the blow, which made my arms ache, and I had to move fast to avoid the follow-up. I dropped my dagger and drew my reserve from my belt; the good news was this one was poisoned, the bad news was that I'd have to get in close to use it. Thank Saedrin Darni had agreed to practise with me after our Dalasorian encounter. I needed all the skills I'd ever learned to get out of this.
He came at me again with an over-arm stroke that would have split my skull but I was able to dodge it. I watched him carefully and realised he was signalling his moves with his off hand, not by much but even a few breaths' advantage could save me here. We circled and fought and when I saw he was going for the overhead smash again, I darted in and stabbed my dagger into the armpit gap of his hauberk. He spat something at me in complete gibberish and I leaped back to avoid his riposte. That's the trouble with poisons; the ones that are safe to carry around on weapons are not necessarily the fastest.
His next swing was slower and he was licking his lips as the venom started to work. His reflexes failed him and I was able to take out his knees with my next stroke. As he fell, I took his head off with a sweeping cut and it skittered across the street like a ball, helm coming loose to reveal a flaxen head rolling in the moonlight. Blood went everywhere and I swore; that would attract the Watch, if nothing else did.
A shout behind me died into a gasp. I whirled round to see three more men in identical armour heading straight for me. I slipped in the blood as I took a pace back and cursed, scraping my boot-sole on the cobbles as I retreated. I turned to run but the world went weird on me again. You know those dreams when you're trying to run and you can't, when it feels like you're waist-deep in water? It only took a few steps before I turned to face whoever was coming for me. If I was going to die, it wasn't going to be from a sword in the back.
They approached. I saw one grinning, teeth gleaming in his pale face. That made me furious and I spat curses at them as I spread my sword and dagger in a lethal embrace. The poison should be good for one more if I could get a deep thrust, and I'd take as many of the bastards with me as I could. They closed around me as I got my back to the wall, and I wondered how expensive Poldrion's ferry might be tonight.
'Hey, shit for brains! How about picking on someone your own size? Got the stones for it?' Three men emerged from the alleyway with a clash of drawing swords. They were rough and dirty and looked like death in hob-nailed boots; my heroes.
As my hunters froze in a moment's confusion, my own wits awake and spurred me on. I stabbed the nearest one in the neck and dashed through the gap as he stumbled from the force of the blow.
'Need some help, sweetheart?' The leader of my rescuers stepped up to my side and smiled like a mad dog through his filthy beard. Hardly a Lescari Duke riding to my aid but I wasn't going to criticise his hygiene.
He needed no answer as the hunters in black moved to attack the new threat. They moved together like trained soldiers and attacked as one. My new allies did not have the same polish but made up for it with the savagery born of life in the mining camps. They hacked with their notched swords, driving the hunters back step by step. I was still busy with the one I'd just stabbed, who was taking his own sweet time about succumbing to the poison. His eyes finally rolled and he stumbled forward, so I got my dagger up under his chin. He dropped to his knees at my feet, and I caught the incongruous scent of orris from his clean-shaven face before blood gushed from his slack lips.
I kicked the corpse aside and moved to help one of my new pals. Now we were two on one, the hunters did not last much longer. One died with his brains spread in an arc across the wall as a sword ripped through his skull and tore off his face. The other went down more cleanly when the sudden realisation of his imminent fate made him drop his guard and he took a straight thrust to the throat.
'Move.' Mad-dog had us moving before the man at his feet had stopped gurgling. We ran down the alley and it led to another street of warehouses and trading yards. We ran on through a network of alleys and back lanes until we came out into a quiet street of rooming-houses.
'Thanks doesn't seem to cover it, lads,' I said fervently as we slowed to a nonchalant walk.
'You looked like you could do with a hand, flower.'
'I can't argue with that. What were you doing there?'
'Out for a stroll.' The men exchanged glances and I could see our fragile alliance was fading.
'Good luck for me.' I reached for my purse and wondered how much to give them. Stuff it, they could have the whole lot; I cut it loose with my dagger.
'Get drunk on me and do me a favour, forget you ever saw me.'
Mad-dog blinked. 'You don't have to—' he began uncertainly.
'Cheers.' One of his mates took the purse from me and weighed it appreciatively.
We continued walking slowly along until we had passed a patrolling Watchman. The dark hid the blood on our clothes but I was as nervous as a colt in a breaking yard. I left the miners at the next street corner without looking back and hurried back to the inn as fast as I dared. I slipped through the stableyard and snatched up a cloak some fool had left on his saddle. Wrapping it round me to hide the bloodstains, I went up the back stairs. The parlour door was locked, which threw me, and I rattled the handle angrily.