do this! But I have to.”
“It is so risky,” Ely fretted.
Bridgit grabbed her by the shoulders and looked her in the eyes. “Stay strong and I shall be back. Panic and you will betray me,” she said sharply. “All you need to do is keep calm, understand?”
Ely nodded unhappily and Bridgit pulled the hood up over her head, adjusting the scarf across her face so that only her eyes were showing. She had seen some women dress like that on her visits to the markets. Ely had explained these were usually women of quality who wanted to protect their faces from the harsh sun. The lower born, of course, had no reason to worry about their faces. That suited Bridgit’s purpose, for women of quality were rarely bothered on the streets. She knew it was a fearful risk, and she was putting a brave face on while her stomach churned and gurgled with nerves. She had visited the privy twice already in the last turn of the hourglass and felt like going again – except this had to be done at the perfect time.
When the call to prayer went out, the two guards on the front door would turn to the east and begin to pray to Aroaril. That was their chance. She had watched them from the window several times and reckoned it was a clear count of one hundred before they returned to their watch.
“Ready?” she asked the others.
“We are,” Nola confirmed.
They had spent the day before fashioning a long rope, using robes and sheets tied together. A group of fishermen’s children had tied them together. Bridgit had been a little nervous to trust not just her own but also her unborn child’s life to them, but they had grown up tying knots and repairing lines and nets for their fathers. If they failed, they went hungry, which was the best way to learn. Riona had tried each one, unable to loosen them despite her farm-bred strength.
“Still, lucky for you that you’ve lost some weight with this Kottermani food,” Nola said with a half-smile.
Bridgit stepped up onto the chair they had placed by the window, slipping her foot into the loop made at the end of the makeshift rope. Nola, who had powerful shoulders and arms from helping out at Brendan’s forge, adjusted the three robes she was wearing to pad her shoulders and then placed the rope over her right shoulder and braced herself against the window frame. This trailed back across the room and into the corridor beyond, where Riona, Ely and a dozen of the biggest and oldest boys and girls took up the slack, ready to slow her descent.
Bridgit looked down into the street, glancing both ways to see nobody around. That was to be expected, given all those around were expecting to hear the call to prayer and getting ready to obey it. But there was always the chance of something going wrong. At the front of the house, not ten yards away from where she was about to descend, the two guards were chatting together. Bridgit wiped sweaty hands on the front of her rope and adjusted her grip on the makeshift rope.
The trumpet call to prayer made her start and she watched with a mixture of fear and determination as the two guards immediately turned away from her, kneeling down and placing their foreheads on the ground, hands out flat before them, chanting the prayers. All around came the same noise and Bridgit signaled to the others, not making a noise. Ely slipped a mattress over the edge of the window so that their rope would not rub against the wood, then stepped back to take her place pulling.
Bridgit swung her legs out into space and slithered down the mattress, looking up to see the strain on Nola’s face as the weight came across her shoulders. They had practiced this at the rear of the house the night before and it had gone well. But then there was only a tiny risk of discovery.
Bridgit tugged on the rope, then clutched tight as it began to descend, the long chain of teenagers and women walking towards the window, lowering her as they did so. She slithered down silently, hanging on for dear
“It is so risky,” Ely fretted.
Bridgit grabbed her by the shoulders and looked her in the eyes. “Stay strong and I shall be back. Panic and you will betray me,” she said sharply. “All you need to do is keep calm, understand?”
Ely nodded unhappily and Bridgit pulled the hood up over her head, adjusting the scarf across her face so that only her eyes were showing. She had seen some women dress like that on her visits to the markets. Ely had explained these were usually women of quality who wanted to protect their faces from the harsh sun. The lower born, of course, had no reason to worry about their faces. That suited Bridgit’s purpose, for women of quality were rarely bothered on the streets. She knew it was a fearful risk, and she was putting a brave face on while her stomach churned and gurgled with nerves. She had visited the privy twice already in the last turn of the hourglass and felt like going again – except this had to be done at the perfect time.
When the call to prayer went out, the two guards on the front door would turn to the east and begin to pray to Aroaril. That was their chance. She had watched them from the window several times and reckoned it was a clear count of one hundred before they returned to their watch.
“Ready?” she asked the others.
“We are,” Nola confirmed.
They had spent the day before fashioning a long rope, using robes and sheets tied together. A group of fishermen’s children had tied them together. Bridgit had been a little nervous to trust not just her own but also her unborn child’s life to them, but they had grown up tying knots and repairing lines and nets for their fathers. If they failed, they went hungry, which was the best way to learn. Riona had tried each one, unable to loosen them despite her farm-bred strength.
“Still, lucky for you that you’ve lost some weight with this Kottermani food,” Nola said with a half-smile.
Bridgit stepped up onto the chair they had placed by the window, slipping her foot into the loop made at the end of the makeshift rope. Nola, who had powerful shoulders and arms from helping out at Brendan’s forge, adjusted the three robes she was wearing to pad her shoulders and then placed the rope over her right shoulder and braced herself against the window frame. This trailed back across the room and into the corridor beyond, where Riona, Ely and a dozen of the biggest and oldest boys and girls took up the slack, ready to slow her descent.
Bridgit looked down into the street, glancing both ways to see nobody around. That was to be expected, given all those around were expecting to hear the call to prayer and getting ready to obey it. But there was always the chance of something going wrong. At the front of the house, not ten yards away from where she was about to descend, the two guards were chatting together. Bridgit wiped sweaty hands on the front of her rope and adjusted her grip on the makeshift rope.
The trumpet call to prayer made her start and she watched with a mixture of fear and determination as the two guards immediately turned away from her, kneeling down and placing their foreheads on the ground, hands out flat before them, chanting the prayers. All around came the same noise and Bridgit signaled to the others, not making a noise. Ely slipped a mattress over the edge of the window so that their rope would not rub against the wood, then stepped back to take her place pulling.
Bridgit swung her legs out into space and slithered down the mattress, looking up to see the strain on Nola’s face as the weight came across her shoulders. They had practiced this at the rear of the house the night before and it had gone well. But then there was only a tiny risk of discovery.
Bridgit tugged on the rope, then clutched tight as it began to descend, the long chain of teenagers and women walking towards the window, lowering her as they did so. She slithered down silently, hanging on for dear
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