"Well," she said, "it would appear that once again, some busybody has seen fit to alert someone else that two outsiders are poking then- noses in where they don't belong."
"I'd rather not fight if we can avoid it," Thamalon said. "They have us outnumbered, and with those slings, they could bring us down before we ever came into sword range."
"I agree," she said. "Let's try to get out of here." They turned and strolled back in the direction from which they'd come, resisting the urge to look behind them or run headlong, lest they provoke the bravos into charging. Meanwhile, Shamur listened intently, trying to judge whether the toughs were quickening their pace to close the distance.
Suddenly she heard a thrumming, and a split second later, a sling bullet whizzed past her ear. She and Thamalon broke into a sprint, zigzagging to throw off the aim of the slingers, and the bullies shouted and pounded after them.
A lead pellet cracked down into the frozen earth behind her. Her foot skidded on a patch of ice, but, her arms flailing, she managed to stay on her feet. Then another contingent of sneering bravos stepped into view ahead of her and Thamalon.
Now trapped between two groups of enemies, the Uskevren peered wildly about. Finally Shamur spotted a gap between two tenements. The crumbling brownstones had slumped toward one another, bringing their upper stories into contact, but a space remained at ground level.
"This way!" she shouted, and she and Thamalon scrambled toward the murky tunnel. Sling bullets hurtled all around them, but miraculously, none found its mark. She darted into the gap, and he followed. The corridor was so cramped it would have been impossible to run side by side.
It would take a good marksman to sling a missile down such a passage, but it could be done. Shamur feared she and Thamalon had a few seconds at most to find an exit before another barrage of pellets hurtled at their backs. She had all but given up hope of doing so when a gap in the wall to the right swam out of the gloom.
She plunged around the corner and found herself at the terminus of another alley. As she and Thamalon ran down it, the thudding footsteps of their pursuers echoing behind them, Shamur realized she had no idea where the passage was taking them, for both she and her husband were strangers to the Scab. They would have to flee blindly, uncertain which of the labyrinthine paths led out of the rookery and which looped back around to their points of origin. Whereas the enemy doubtless knew the slum intimately, down to every shortcut, twist, and turn. She suspected the bullies might not have much trouble keeping track of their quarry, getting ahead of them, or herding them wherever they wanted them to go.
Sure enough, the nobles sprinted around a bend and found several ruffians waiting. Instantly, the enemy whirled their slings. Shamur and Thamalon wheeled and retreated. They heard other foes rushing up from that direction, and scrambled down another branching passage.
It went on like that for a long, wearisome time, until both nobles were panting and drenched in perspiration. Whenever Shamur thought she'd spotted a route to safety, toughs would appear to cut them off, and they had to flee back deeper into the Scab. She was grateful that at least the ordinary inhabitants of the rookery didn't seem interested in aiding the Quippers, but they were evidently too leery of the gang to try to help their intended victims, either. Whenever the hunted or hunters approached, the poor darted into their homes, slammed and barred the doors behind them, and peeked out between the nailed boards or rickety, crooked shutters on their windows.
At last the Uskevren staggered into a malodorous little courtyard, where beady-eyed rats rustled through piles of festering trash. Three other alleyways led away from this spot, and, by now thoroughly disoriented, Shamur had no notion which one to take. Since for the moment, none of the Quippers seemed to be right on their heels, she paused to take her bearings and catch her breath.
Thamalon slumped against a soot-stained wall. "We did better fleeing through the woods," he wheezed. "The daylight and these closed-in spaces are killing us. We may have to try to fight, and the odds be damned."
"Perhaps," she said, shivering and drawing her cloak about her. Now that she'd stopped running, the wind was doing its best to freeze her sweaty tunic. "If we have to make a stand, let's do it somewhere they can only come at us from one direction, and only one or two at a time. But I consider that the option of last resort."
"Agreed. And wife, whatever happens, I want you to know one thing."
"What's that?"
"I blame you for our predicament. If you recall, I suggested we go home."
For a moment, she bristled, then realized he'd made a joke. "Don't be a spoilsport," she said, grinning. "Home is dull compared to this."
She still hadn't managed to figure out what direction they should take, but she could hear hunters calling to one another, stalking closer, and knew they shouldn't remain in the courtyard any longer.
"How about this way?" she said, pointing to an alley at random.
"It looks as good as any," he replied. "Let's move."
In fact, when they crept to the other end of the crooked passage and peeked around the corner, she decided their selection might be quite good indeed, for it had brought them back almost to the point at which they'd entered the Scab. The graffiti-blemished arch was about sixty feet to their right, and no one appeared to be guarding it.
"It looks too good to be true," Thamalon whispered.
"I know what you mean," she replied, "but in my experience, people don't always hunt you in the most effective way possible. Perhaps the Quippers really didn't leave any sentries here."
"Or perhaps not enough of them," he said, "and so far, this is as close as we've come to escaping this maze. Let's try to make a run for it."
They charged out into the narrow street and dashed toward the gate. Four bravos scrambled from their places of concealment to cut them off.
To the Pit with it, Shamur thought. She'd overcome worse odds in her day. Grinning fiercely, she drew her sword and ran on. Beside her, Thamalon did the same.
Something hummed, and she heard the distinctive smack of a sling bullet slamming into flesh and bone. Thamalon made a choking sound and fell.
She lurched to a halt, spun around, and saw the half dozen toughs rushing up the street behind her. Another sling bullet whizzed past her as she crouched beside her husband.
The back of his head was bloody, and he was clearly dazed. "Get up!" she said, tugging on his arm.
"Can't," he croaked. "You run. Maybe you can still get away."
Perhaps she could, particularly, it suddenly occurred to her, if she took to the rooftops. Certainly it would be prudent to make the attempt. But she couldn't find it in her heart to leave him lying helpless in the street when, for all she knew, the bullies meant to slay him out of hand.
"We're both going to get away," she said. "I'm going to kill every one of these bastards, and then we'll stroll on out of here."
She leaped to her feet, screamed, and charged the larger of the two groups of toughs. They clearly hadn't expected that, and for an instant, they froze. One of the slingers was still trying to fumble his short sword out of its scabbard when she cut him down.
Pivoting, she dropped a second ruffian with a thrust to the throat, and took a third out of action with a slash to the sword arm. The remaining ones fell back.
She could hear the four who'd been lurking near the gate pounding up behind her. She had only seconds to kill the men in front of her so she could whirl and fight the others. She advanced, the broadsword low, inviting attack in the high line. A scar-faced man in a red doublet took the bait and slashed at her face. She parried and drove her point into his chest.
At that same instant, another ruffian attacked. Since she was still yanking her weapon from his comrade's body, she had to slap his dagger out of line with her unweaponed hand. Then the broadsword pulled free, but the bravo had lunged in too close for her to readily use the blade. She smashed the pommel against his temple, and he dropped.