hairpin turn and ended in—a blank wall.
She spun around, her back against the wall, and looked around desperately. The insulas surrounding the alley were three stories tall … Three stories straight up. Smooth surfaces of narrow terracotta brick up to the cold, gray sky.
The wolf tried to come, tried to draw Regeane into the change and—couldn’t. She was too weak. She subsided when she seemed to realize in her dark heart that she was only draining the woman’s strength.
The footsteps sounded closer now. Hurrying
“Hisst!” The voice called from close to her feet. The opening was so clogged with debris, she’d missed seeing it.
“Hurry!” the child’s voice called. “If you keep dithering, he’ll have you.”
“I’m not dithering,” Regeane snapped in a hissing whisper. “Is it big enough?”
“Yes … maybe … well, I don’t know.” This a wail. “I went down so fast, I don’t know. But, please—”
The mercenary appeared at the entrance of the cul de sac. Her panicked brain estimated he was approximately three times her size. Another part of her brain presented her with a really gruesome picture of her upper body stuck in the drain while the soldier hacked at her lower body and legs with his sword.
Regeane’s hands cleared dead leaves and twigs aside. The wolf, a burrower, made a lightning calculation. Regeane dove for the hole.
With a shout of fury, the warrior leaped after her.
The tunnel was downhill, the walls slippery with slime.
The man’s hand closed on her ankle. Regeane screeched andclawed desperately at the inside of the clay drain. It was too slick for a handhold.
Something gripped her hair and yanked. She shot out of the other end of the tunnel like a greased pig, landing right at the feet of the child, leaving one shoe in the soldier’s hand.
Shouts, evidence of the man’s frustrated rage, echoed in the pipe.
“Let go of my hair!” Regeane ordered as she got shakily to her feet.
The child looked offended. “You are lucky I got as good a grip on it as I did. You’re too fussy. You should have jumped in when I told you to.” The child tried to look up the drain, still reverberating with the soldier’s fury. “Don’t worry,” she said. “He can’t get through until he gets more of his armor off.”
“And it won’t take him long to do that,” Regeane said emphatically as she pulled the child away.
The courtyard was surrounded with two-story insula. Every door and window was closed and barred. Regeane could see no escape.
“Up,” the child said pointing to a row of stone balconies that ringed the second story of the houses. The balconies were tiny and shallow, but even in this poor quarter, each sported at least one pot of herbs and flowers. The nearest one held quite a few more. It offered at least a possibility of concealment.
Regeane snatched up the child and boosted her over the rail, then pulled herself up behind her. She tried the shutters with her fingers. Solid planks. She saw bolts at the bottom, middle, and top. No escape there.
The warrior slid out of the drain.
Regeane and the child crouched down behind the flowerpots and tried to make themselves as small as possible. The warrior down below turned in circles, scanning the empty courtyard. He may have discarded his armor, but he carried a large, lethal-looking sword. She remembered the cloth seller and shivered.
“It’s no good,” she said softly. “He will find us.”
She felt the little girl’s clutch tighten on her arm. She shook herself free and stood up. He was standing almost under the balcony.
She seized a pot of gray sage sporting long spikes of blueflowers and dropped it on his head. She scored a direct hit, but it didn’t do much good. He was wearing his helmet.
He gave a roar of fury and turned, leaping for the balcony rail. He pulled himself up with one hand, sweeping the sword ahead of him to keep her off.
Regeane’s fingers closed on the lug handles of a big
She spun around, her back against the wall, and looked around desperately. The insulas surrounding the alley were three stories tall … Three stories straight up. Smooth surfaces of narrow terracotta brick up to the cold, gray sky.
The wolf tried to come, tried to draw Regeane into the change and—couldn’t. She was too weak. She subsided when she seemed to realize in her dark heart that she was only draining the woman’s strength.
The footsteps sounded closer now. Hurrying
“Hisst!” The voice called from close to her feet. The opening was so clogged with debris, she’d missed seeing it.
“Hurry!” the child’s voice called. “If you keep dithering, he’ll have you.”
“I’m not dithering,” Regeane snapped in a hissing whisper. “Is it big enough?”
“Yes … maybe … well, I don’t know.” This a wail. “I went down so fast, I don’t know. But, please—”
The mercenary appeared at the entrance of the cul de sac. Her panicked brain estimated he was approximately three times her size. Another part of her brain presented her with a really gruesome picture of her upper body stuck in the drain while the soldier hacked at her lower body and legs with his sword.
Regeane’s hands cleared dead leaves and twigs aside. The wolf, a burrower, made a lightning calculation. Regeane dove for the hole.
With a shout of fury, the warrior leaped after her.
The tunnel was downhill, the walls slippery with slime.
The man’s hand closed on her ankle. Regeane screeched andclawed desperately at the inside of the clay drain. It was too slick for a handhold.
Something gripped her hair and yanked. She shot out of the other end of the tunnel like a greased pig, landing right at the feet of the child, leaving one shoe in the soldier’s hand.
Shouts, evidence of the man’s frustrated rage, echoed in the pipe.
“Let go of my hair!” Regeane ordered as she got shakily to her feet.
The child looked offended. “You are lucky I got as good a grip on it as I did. You’re too fussy. You should have jumped in when I told you to.” The child tried to look up the drain, still reverberating with the soldier’s fury. “Don’t worry,” she said. “He can’t get through until he gets more of his armor off.”
“And it won’t take him long to do that,” Regeane said emphatically as she pulled the child away.
The courtyard was surrounded with two-story insula. Every door and window was closed and barred. Regeane could see no escape.
“Up,” the child said pointing to a row of stone balconies that ringed the second story of the houses. The balconies were tiny and shallow, but even in this poor quarter, each sported at least one pot of herbs and flowers. The nearest one held quite a few more. It offered at least a possibility of concealment.
Regeane snatched up the child and boosted her over the rail, then pulled herself up behind her. She tried the shutters with her fingers. Solid planks. She saw bolts at the bottom, middle, and top. No escape there.
The warrior slid out of the drain.
Regeane and the child crouched down behind the flowerpots and tried to make themselves as small as possible. The warrior down below turned in circles, scanning the empty courtyard. He may have discarded his armor, but he carried a large, lethal-looking sword. She remembered the cloth seller and shivered.
“It’s no good,” she said softly. “He will find us.”
She felt the little girl’s clutch tighten on her arm. She shook herself free and stood up. He was standing almost under the balcony.
She seized a pot of gray sage sporting long spikes of blueflowers and dropped it on his head. She scored a direct hit, but it didn’t do much good. He was wearing his helmet.
He gave a roar of fury and turned, leaping for the balcony rail. He pulled himself up with one hand, sweeping the sword ahead of him to keep her off.
Regeane’s fingers closed on the lug handles of a big
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