Ah, being right was such fun.
"Split up," The Masked murmured. "Go." Then he turned and disappeared down an almost invisible side-alley.
Not bothering to look back-doing so would probably let her pursuer know she was a halfling, and not male to boot-Tantaerra burst into a sprint, heading down the alley for the nearest sturdy drainpipe.
"Stop! Stop, thief!"
Good, go right on bellowing, Tantaerra thought. Robs you of air and tells me just how far back you are. Far enough that I've ample time to get up to that roof before you can lay hands on the drainpipe.
Back in Canorate, she'd once encountered a guard who'd had no hesitation at all in trying to tear a downspout off a building to bring down a certain halfling scrambling up it. He'd managed it, too, though not before she'd reached a balcony and let go. It was to be hoped that these Watchswords of Braganza weren't quite so reckless, but as the old saying went, "Never trust a lawkeeper. They use laws like shields and swords and snares, all three."
And so they did-if they were swift enough. By the approaching sounds of panting and thudding boots below, this one wasn't.
"Stop! In the name of-"
Tantaerra left the drainpipe behind and set out along the roof. It was older and steeper than the last one, its tiles slippery in spots and rough in others. She resisted the temptation to look back until she'd leaped to the next roof, and scrambled around behind a dormer. Let the Watchguard look for a small boy, not a halfling.
The drainpipe was rattling behind her now, and she could hear snarls of rising rage.
Well enough, she thought. Destroy someone else's building, and I'll just be on my way. Over the roof-ridge, and down the backslope to leap to the topmost balcony of a soaring whitestone mansion with carved roosting eagles everywhere and drainpipes galore, descending between more balconies than she had time to tarry and count.
Ah, but it felt good to be prancing acrobatically among rooftops and spires again, like a little bird.
Too good. Unfamiliar city, chased by the local swords of the law already, and separated from her hired protector. Not wise.
Best get back to The Masked as soon as she could. Without leading the Watchswords right to him, of course. He knew Braganza. Well, perhaps not its rooftops, but-
The whitestone mansion was new and grandiose but not all that well built. In its facings and ornamental ramparts there were cracks even the clumsiest hod carrier could cling to, to say nothing of fissures a halfling could store a fine meal in.
Tantaerra resisted the impulse to explore and peer in through windows. The chimneys looked clean and long cold, so the place was probably uninhabited. Which meant it might make a suitable den to sleep or hide in, if such became necessary.
Thanks to the way the alley ran, The Masked must have headed that way, and from what she'd seen of him in their admittedly short time together, he'd have turned off the alley at his first opportunity, probably to the right, there, so as to still be hastening to Ferkel's but by a different route, so his spine would itch a little less in anticipation of speeding crossbow bolts.
Which meant her best road on was to leap swiftly to the next rooftop, over it to the dunstone mansion with the overblown facade but a much smaller, lower roof behind it, then start seeking drainpipes that could serve as swift ladders down.
She cast a swift look back, to make sure no Watchsword with a crossbow had reached a nearby rooftop. Nothing.
No, nothing at all. Empty dark windows, ornamental spires and carved gargoyles and glorious round full-leaded panes …all empty, all for show. She was alone among the upperworks of deserted, new-built grandeur, with no sign of any nearby lofty watch post from which the Watchsword could look down across the city.
Well, not that she'd been expecting such. Pigeons were perhaps the only inhabitants of Molthune not viewed by the authorities with suspicion. The eyes of authority would be lower down, where men had footing enough to carry heavy chests of coins-and sharp swords.
Tantaerra turned, made a swift leap, and let loose a growl as she headed for the overblown facade.
She'd just decided she hated Braganza.
The roof behind the facade did nothing to change that opinion. Its tiles were new, and of the heaviest, most expensive thrice-glazed sort, but hadn't been dogged down properly. Several spun free under her landing to slide and clatter down the roofslope.
Abadar-damned fake city.
She dared not move that fast if these soaring mansions were all so hastily and sloppily built. Braganza in a gale must be a deathtrap for anyone on a roof or balcony, if tiles and shingles, trim and all, were loose enough to go whirling about.
Yes, a gold-fisted deathtrap, to be sure. Yet she'd seen no pattern of missing tiles and slates, gaping cracks or missing windows. Perhaps Braganzan builders were like masons just about everywhere, doing a sturdy shell but leaving little touches-like securing things properly, and sealing out the wet and the burrowing furry things wanting warmth in winter-for the occupants who came after to either pay someone to see to, or suffer. And as all of the buildings flanking this alley seemed empty …
She was four roofs beyond that dunstone facade now, and moving more quickly. She could see a tricky stretch ahead, with a very steep roof plunging to gutters that looked more ornamental than sturdy. A dodge right would avoid it entirely, but take her farther west than she wanted to go.
Along this ridgepole, then, keeping low and ready to lean right if a fall began, so her tumble would be down those shingles to that scaffolding, where there'd be ropes and projecting boards galore to catch and cling to. She leaped-
The drop was just a little longer than she'd thought it would be, and her own knees caught her belly and chest, driving the wind out of her.
Which meant she was staggering and gasping as The Masked-trudging along an alleyway with a casual air that fell away like a cloak as he whirled, sword flashing up-spun to face her.
"The man from Halidon!" she gasped. "He saw us leave the wagons!"
The Masked nodded. "Forget Ferkel's, then-if he's been spying on us, he might have heard where we're headed. We'll try another place I know. Not my first choice, but…" He grabbed her shoulder, pushing her into a run. "Come on. After me, quick now!"
∗ ∗ ∗
"I thought we were going to another inn!"
"We are," The Masked responded testily, kicking open the boarded-up doorway of an abandoned construction site. "But like I said, it's one I know to be safe-which means that if this man following us has done his research, he might expect me to try for it. Which is why we need to disguise you."
"Me?" Tantaerra grumbled. "I hardly think that I'm the more recognizable one of us."
"Precisely. That's why you're going in to scout it out, and I'm going to wait in the shadows. Now come on."
She followed him into a large, dark room. It felt empty, as if noises made here would echo through chamber upon deserted chamber, abandoned by mice and rats because there was nothing at all to eat. It was too dark to see properly, but Tantaerra could make out archways and a staircase, far away across a cold, dusty marble floor.
The Masked held the door board partway open, creating a patch of lighter gloom, and beckoned her into it. He reached into a pocket, then dropped its contents into her hand.
"An eye patch?" Tantaerra scoffed, looking down at the bit of cloth. "This is your clever disguise?"
"Better than letting your real face be seen and remembered."
"While drawing the attention of every non-pirate in the place," she shot back. "Here. Watch."
She dug into her own pockets and withdrew several smooth river pebbles she'd picked up days before-it always paid to have a few throwing pebbles handy. These she tucked into her cheeks, changing the shape of her face. Then she reached down through the open door, adding smears of alley-grime near her temples, shadowing to make her head seem narrower. Grimacing, she used an even larger dollop to slick back and darken her hair, then doffed her top and turned it inside out to reveal a different hue entirely before putting it back on.