''Crash! Boom!'' another table went clattering over in the background. No curses shot out this time. Instead, a terrified shriek, ''Soldiers!'', silenced everything in the tavern. One yelp did what the music had failed to do all night. Everyone became brothers, united by a great big universal shock of dismay. Mailed soldiers began pouring in, clubbing down everyone in their way. Pyton was right behind them, urging them forward. ''Over there.'' he pointed straight at the Tsayr, ''The one with the black hood.'' The erstwhile rioters stampeded like roaches caught by the kitchen light. The Tsayr was already up and leaping over bodies and table tops. Illyrians, expecting no alarm, froze where they were. Locals knew what to do in a raid. They scurried down and out of the tavern - right into the arms of the troops who knew exactly which way they would bolt. Terror choked off the stranger's excuses, and hove her stumbling after the Tsayr. Instinct, and legs shaped by Illyrian schottische kept her close to the Tsayr. These dance steps were born from the need to move swiftly and nimbly over uneven footing. The soldiers didn't have the same dancing background. They smashed into the furniture. Precious seconds spilled from the surprise attack to the pair's advantage while their pursuers cursed. They slashed at their obstacles instead of springing over them. More soldiers pouring in from the flanks mired into the rest. ''That way!'' howled Pyton, stabbing at a stairway to the loft. He feared the capture would be lost because no idiot behind-walls considers an Illyrian goes uphill for safety. And up the Tsayr's instinct sent her flying, with the stranger panting behind. They hurtled through a narrow gallery and into a black room. A small square of moonlight beckoned towards freedom. The Tsayr leapt up for it. Her boot came squarely down on a wriggling mass of arms and legs. She didn't slow a moment. She vaulted for the hole, snagged it, and forced herself through. The stranger stomped even more heartily on the tangle. The soldiers weren't so gentle. The Tsayr clawed her way to the roof top in time to see a soldier's head coming up the other side. Leaning into the beam she gave it a straight leg kick all the way from her hip. The force sent him whirling in the air until the force of gravity snatched him down with a crash. The Tsayr ran along the rotted shakes to leap across to the next roof. As she sailed across the gap an anguished cry followed her in the Illyrian tongue. ''Tsayr, wait!'' It caught her attention, and the notice of every soldier in the street. The Tsayr landed hard enough to break into the roof up to her knees. As she struggled out, the stranger's adrenal glands churned out enough juice for her to attempt the leap. Her movement directed the attention of the soldiers below. The stranger bounced. She would have rolled down two stories if the Tsayr hadn't grabbed her braids and yanked her to her feet. Soldiers below took bead on them. They fled into the dark as the javelins clattered after them. Daring everything, they moved swiftly on the rotten shakes of Outer City. The Tsayr tried to circle back towards Illyr. The soldiers below responded with firing the houses in her path. Bolts and torches swarmed after the pair like a plague of locusts. The Tsayr and the stranger were pursued by fire and rage across the broken back of Outer City. Each new assault drove them closer to the city proper. The King had ordered her arrest, his soldiers had been positioned to do so, and Pyton was there to make sure they didn't mess up. Buildings thinned as they were driven closer to the western river's oxbow. They fell back into shadows, eluded the captors from the north, turned back towards Illyr, and were driven back by flames. The dark and invisibility of Illyrian trackers slipped them out of these traps. But there were too many hunters to escape them all. Again and again they tried to double back. All too soon they were spotted and were driven back towards the river. Each time the noose drew tighter. The Tsayr marked the buildings towards Illyr for a way out. Some were burning, others were being looted in the general melee. The soldiers weren't wasting any opportunities. Between them and Illyr a wall of malice was becoming more inpenetratable every second. ''There is no other way.'' she whispered to the stranger, ''We are going in the river.'' ''But the current.'' objected the other. ''A cleaner death then.'' the Tsayr observed grimly, nodding towards the death wails throbbing in front of them. They skulked down the side of the building, and stripped off their foot gear and cloaks. The Tsayr unstrapped her riding bow and nocked an arrow. Two soldiers went down. The break was just wide enough for two women to plunge into the river. The current snatched them up. As they fought their way to the other side a war boat pulled towards them. ''Under.'' gasped the Tsayr. Under they went. After them a flight of arrows hissed. A Sgt. Afoot roared for a light. Storm beams swept the water. But they were gone. He bellowed for more boats, and beat at his men with an abandoned boot. The moon beamed sweetly down on other places. She turned her back on the havoc in Outer City. She had nothing to do with the commotion below. |