pinwheeling them once for stability. Time seemed to dilate for her, and she could feel each drop of chill rain brushing her skin as she arced between the buildings. Each ripple of cloth reminded her that she had a long fall beneath her.
For as slow as time seemed to move, the opposite rooftop closed in quickly. Kehrsyn let go of her bag and scabbard and pulled her hands back close. She tried to tuck her legs in, but her feet hit the edge of the roof just below her ankles, and she sprawled painfully on the uneven split-log roof, flopping once over one shoulder with her momentum. She felt like she couldn’t breathe, felt like she was going to throw up. Mouth hanging open, she looked around and located her sword and bag, both of which appeared to have landed in better shape than she had. As she picked them up, she heard the guards’ telltale whistle again.
Looking back, she saw Pupface running across the rooftop toward her, frantically blowing a signal. He reached the edge of the rooftop and looked down.
“You!” he yelled, pointing with his khopesh. “Hey! Zhentilars! She’s up there! Don’t let her get away!”
Kehrsyn saw a squad of Zhent guards in the street, staring up at her, eight or more in number. One issued a string of orders, and the pack fanned out to seal off the building, moving swiftly like a pack of wolves.
Several other people stood nearby, also looking up at Kehrsyn, but one woman in particular caught the fugitive’s eye. The woman waved cheerily.
“Olaré, hon,” she said, fiddling with her ring.
Kehrsyn turned and fled across the rooftop, heart pounding.
Kehrsyn knew she couldn’t stay on the rooftop. The longer she did, the more time the Zhentarim and the guards had to seal off the building. Her only hope was to get off the rooftop as soon as possible and lose the pursuit in the streets below. She ran straight across the center of the jumbled collection of rooftops, looking for the telltale gap of an alleyway spur.
She found one, and, knowing that she had not the leisure to find a better, she looked for the quickest way down. No decent choices offered themselves. She hopped down to a lower roof. Before she could think about it too much, she hopped the rest of the way to the uneven alley floor.
Kehrsyn hit hard, trying to tumble to ease the impact, but she felt a ripping, popping sensation tear through her right leg and ankle. She felt no pain, but her foot felt loose, almost unhinged. She pushed herself up, keeping her right foot off the ground, and shifted herself to a sitting position. She scrunched up her eyes and brought her ankle around to take a look at it. A limp foot, dangling from her shin like a dead fish, was what she expected to see. Instead, she saw her boot flayed open, laces burst asunder from ankle to knee. A bright scar of cut leather ran from the outside of her ankle upward, then reappeared near the inside of the top.
It struck Kehrsyn what had happened: Pupface’s khopeshhad grazed her leather boot, slicing along the laces, cutting into them, but not quite all the way through. The added stress of her last jump had burst them. The surprise and relief was so great that a giggle bubbled up from her throat.
She heard a sudden scuffing step up the alley, then silence. Kehrsyn’s cold fear returned. She froze, trapped in the dead end of a narrow alley. She opened her mouth to aid her hearing—could she hear someone coming closer? It was hard to tell … until she heard the splash of a puddle being disturbed. She quietly picked up her rapier and bag and tried to scoot into an inset doorway to hide. As quiet as her movements were, she heard the footsteps pause.
For untold pounding heartbeats, she dared not move, dared not even to breathe lest the mist of her breath give her away.
The footsteps turned and scooted away. Kehrsyn held her breath until she heard them no longer, then let the air out in a heart-pounding, trembling heave. She tried to breathe deeply and
For as slow as time seemed to move, the opposite rooftop closed in quickly. Kehrsyn let go of her bag and scabbard and pulled her hands back close. She tried to tuck her legs in, but her feet hit the edge of the roof just below her ankles, and she sprawled painfully on the uneven split-log roof, flopping once over one shoulder with her momentum. She felt like she couldn’t breathe, felt like she was going to throw up. Mouth hanging open, she looked around and located her sword and bag, both of which appeared to have landed in better shape than she had. As she picked them up, she heard the guards’ telltale whistle again.
Looking back, she saw Pupface running across the rooftop toward her, frantically blowing a signal. He reached the edge of the rooftop and looked down.
“You!” he yelled, pointing with his khopesh. “Hey! Zhentilars! She’s up there! Don’t let her get away!”
Kehrsyn saw a squad of Zhent guards in the street, staring up at her, eight or more in number. One issued a string of orders, and the pack fanned out to seal off the building, moving swiftly like a pack of wolves.
Several other people stood nearby, also looking up at Kehrsyn, but one woman in particular caught the fugitive’s eye. The woman waved cheerily.
“Olaré, hon,” she said, fiddling with her ring.
Kehrsyn turned and fled across the rooftop, heart pounding.
Kehrsyn knew she couldn’t stay on the rooftop. The longer she did, the more time the Zhentarim and the guards had to seal off the building. Her only hope was to get off the rooftop as soon as possible and lose the pursuit in the streets below. She ran straight across the center of the jumbled collection of rooftops, looking for the telltale gap of an alleyway spur.
She found one, and, knowing that she had not the leisure to find a better, she looked for the quickest way down. No decent choices offered themselves. She hopped down to a lower roof. Before she could think about it too much, she hopped the rest of the way to the uneven alley floor.
Kehrsyn hit hard, trying to tumble to ease the impact, but she felt a ripping, popping sensation tear through her right leg and ankle. She felt no pain, but her foot felt loose, almost unhinged. She pushed herself up, keeping her right foot off the ground, and shifted herself to a sitting position. She scrunched up her eyes and brought her ankle around to take a look at it. A limp foot, dangling from her shin like a dead fish, was what she expected to see. Instead, she saw her boot flayed open, laces burst asunder from ankle to knee. A bright scar of cut leather ran from the outside of her ankle upward, then reappeared near the inside of the top.
It struck Kehrsyn what had happened: Pupface’s khopeshhad grazed her leather boot, slicing along the laces, cutting into them, but not quite all the way through. The added stress of her last jump had burst them. The surprise and relief was so great that a giggle bubbled up from her throat.
She heard a sudden scuffing step up the alley, then silence. Kehrsyn’s cold fear returned. She froze, trapped in the dead end of a narrow alley. She opened her mouth to aid her hearing—could she hear someone coming closer? It was hard to tell … until she heard the splash of a puddle being disturbed. She quietly picked up her rapier and bag and tried to scoot into an inset doorway to hide. As quiet as her movements were, she heard the footsteps pause.
For untold pounding heartbeats, she dared not move, dared not even to breathe lest the mist of her breath give her away.
The footsteps turned and scooted away. Kehrsyn held her breath until she heard them no longer, then let the air out in a heart-pounding, trembling heave. She tried to breathe deeply and
Similar Books
